Blood for Blood
by PsandQs
Summary: An operation takes Harry and his team to Northern Ireland, where Harry is forced to face his past and his relationship with Ruth is tested to the limit. Based on the information in Harry's Diary about his time in Belfast. Set in early season 9, but Harry and Ruth are together in this version.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I will be consolidating my stories in one place as time allows - most of you will already have read this on the Spooks Forum. Written and first posted before season 9 aired.  
**

**- 0 -  
**

_15 November 2010  
JIC Meeting, London_

"Right, final item. I have decided that the scheduled Northern Ireland talks will take place in Belfast."  
Harry knows, the moment the statement is made, that this is the real reason why the Home Secretary chose to attend and chair today's meeting. He clears his throat.  
"I don't think that's a good idea, Home Secretary. There have been increased unrest and bomb attacks from the Republican splinter groups over the last five months and…"  
The Home Secretary overrides him.  
"That is exactly why we need to show faith in our partners in Northern Ireland, which holding the talks in Belfast will do!"  
"No, what we need to do is not provide the growing militant ranks with a tempting target, which is precisely what this conference will be," Harry states firmly, trying to remain calm.  
The Home Secretary glares at him.  
"I'm not debating this with you, Sir Harry. The talks will take place in Belfast next week, and since there will be high ranking officials from this government attending, MI5 will oversee the security and make sure that the Republicans do not get a chance to do anything…"  
Harry's patience snaps.  
"This is a huge mistake. More than that, it's bloody irresponsible! There is nowhere near enough intelligence available on all the Republican splinter groups to know the extent of the problem we're dealing with. We can't go in there blind and expect to pull off a miracle!"  
"Not enough intelligence? Well, Sir Harry, you have a whole week before it starts. Why don't you show me why all my predecessors sing your praises so highly, and _get_ the intelligence you'll need. I am committed to this decision, so make it happen. That's an order!" With that, he gathers up his papers and storms off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.

"Right," Richard Dolby pipes up after a few beats, "that's settled then."  
Harry rounds on him.  
"Is it." He bites off the words, and Dolby shrinks back in his seat a little bit. Ever since the 'unfortunate Connie James incident', as Dolby is now referring to it, he has been wary of Harry Pearce.  
"Come now, Harry, I would've thought you'd like the idea of going back to where your legend was born…"  
Luckily for Dolby, there are no wine glasses near to hand, but the look on Harry's face is enough to silence him.

- 0 -

Beth, Lucas and Ruth are gathered around Ruth's computer as she explains the latest information she's unearthed on a terror suspect, when Harry comes back onto the Grid. As he stomps over to his office, he yanks off his leather gloves with more force than necessary, a scowl firmly fixed on his face.  
"Oh dear," remarks Ruth.  
Beth, who has already learnt that Harry has a fierce temper even though she has only been on the team for a few months, looks a little apprehensive as she cracks a joke.  
"If we were in a cartoon, Harry'd have a dark cloud with little thunderbolts drawn above his head." She demonstrates 'z' shaped figures in the air.  
Lucas smirks, but his reply is cut off when Harry storms back out of his office _sans_ coat and scarf, and barks across the Grid: "Everyone in the meeting room _now_." He stalks off without waiting to see if they're following. Lucas and Ruth share a quick, resigned look, before following.

Harry looks over his team as they file in and take their seats. Lucas, now his Section Chief, has shown good leadership qualities in the few months he's been in the job, but Harry still has some reservations about him. He has shown a tendency to ignore orders and go off on his own tangents, something which Harry tolerates when it's to the benefit of the operation, but he's getting the feeling that Lucas is embroiled in some personal issue at the moment, and he worries about the impact this is having on Lucas' operational decision making. But, he is the only experienced field officer Harry has left, so he has no option but to put his faith in Lucas at the moment.

The two latest recruits, Dimitri and Beth, have done well so far and Harry is pleased with them. They seem to have brought back some youthful enthusiasm to the Grid, something which has been lacking since they lost Zaf. _And Danny and Zoe_, he thinks. Along with Tariq, Harry feels he can mould them into a formidable team in the near future.

And then of course there's Ruth. Dear, wonderful, beautiful Ruth. Harry simply doesn't know what he would do without her. Not only is she the best intelligence analyst he has ever known, but she has the knack of calming him when things are going badly, and he knows the others see her as a shoulder to cry on and someone to confide in. She is the heart of the Grid, the moral guardian, the one who makes him think carefully about his decisions and orders. Ruth also holds Harry's heart firmly in her hands, as he does hers. She has become his trusted and cherished partner in recent weeks; he loves her, and knows that her love for him is making him strive to be a better person.

As they all settle around the table, Harry worries whether he has enough resources, whether his people are experienced enough to handle what he is about to ask of them. Not for the first time, he wishes for a moment that he still had Adam, Ros and Malcolm to call on, but he banishes the thought quickly, before he has a chance to become maudlin.

As soon as they're settled around the table, Harry starts the briefing without preamble.  
"Next week's Northern Ireland talks are going to be held in Belfast."  
His opening statement is met with a chorus of disbelief.  
"That's insane…"  
"Surely not…"  
"What idiot thought that was a good idea…"  
Harry cuts through the hubbub.  
"The _Home Secretary_ has made up his mind. He is committed…"  
Ruth interrupts, "Or he should be…"  
Harry stifles a smile, knowing that he should be annoyed at the interruption, but he can tell from Ruth's face that she hadn't intended to say that out loud. So he lets it slide.  
"Quite. But no matter what our thoughts are on the sanity of our esteemed political leader, we have no option but to follow orders on this one. So. We have one week to ensure that none of the many Republican lunatic splinter groups use the conference in Belfast as target practice. Lucas, Ruth, Beth; you're joining me in Belfast. Tariq, Dimitri, you'll have to hold the fort here…"  
"You're going to Belfast?" Ruth can't quite hide her surprise. This time Harry can't keep the annoyance over the interruption out of his voice.  
"Yes, Ruth. As are you, Lucas, and Beth." His tone of voice tells her that there will be no further discussion on this, at least not in public. She glances around the table quickly, noticing that Beth and Lucas are looking at her with interest, probably wondering why she has a problem with Harry going to Belfast. She dips her head and stares at the table as Harry continues.

"Lucas, you need to start liaising with CO19 – although the PSNI will be in charge of security, I want a CO19 team there as well."  
"Perhaps we should also have another team on standby at the nearest base in England, so that they can chopper in at the first sign of trouble," Lucas suggests.  
"Yes, good. Also liaise with the PSNI, make sure their security arrangements are up to scratch. They need to share anything that causes them concern with you promptly. Beth, you're going to use your charm to get the cooperation of our Irish Military Intelligence, or G2, counterparts - make sure they're not hiding anything from us. Get them to share whatever they have on the Republican splinter groups. Ruth, you need to go through everything we have on Northern Ireland since the troubles have started up again; see if you can identify possible persons of interest. Have a close look at Republican Sinn Fein, the 32-County Sovereignty Movement, the Real IRA and the Continuity IRA, as well as Oghlaigh na hEireann. If there's going to be trouble, it'll be from one of those groups. Tariq, you'll need to go over to the conference facility beforehand to install everything we'll need to track the movements of everyone there, and specifically to allow us to listen to whatever the Northern Ireland delegation, and my old friends Gerry Adams and Bobby Storey in particular, is saying in the privacy of their rooms. Also make sure we have the necessary equipment to prevent them from doing the same to us, if you please. Dimitri, you'll have to handle our ongoing operation here on your own, but for God's sake, check with me first before you do anything rash. Oh, and drop by your Customs & Excise contacts, see if there are any whispers about arms and explosives shipments to Northern Ireland recently. All right? Let's get to it, then." He gets up, indicating that the meeting is over.

- 0 -

It is two hours later when Ruth finds a moment to herself. She glances over at Harry's office; he is seated behind his desk, forehead held in one hand as he reads a report. She heads over and knocks before entering for a change.  
"Do you have a moment?"  
He looks up, and registers the slight look of concern in her eyes.  
"Yes." He motions to the chairs across from his desk. When she sits down, but doesn't say anything immediately, Harry waits patiently, even though he has a good idea what this is about.

He still gets nightmares about the murder of his best friend, Bill Crombie, when they were both stationed in Belfast in 1978. Bill was snatched and tortured severely by the PIRA Nutting Squad, and when they found his body nine days later, he was almost unrecognisable after being burnt with a blowtorch. Harry continues to feel enormous guilt over Bill's death. He was there when Bill had been snatched, but did nothing, in order to protect a valuable source's identity. At least, that is how he feels most of the time, but there are days, when he's emotionally low, when he still wonders whether it was cowardice, rather than the desire to protect their operation, that made him do nothing. So the nightmares continue to plague him. In fact, he had one a few nights ago, when he was staying over at Ruth's. He woke her with his thrashing around, and as she soothed him and held him close, he told her about Bill, about his guilt, and about the hatred he still feels toward those responsible for Bill's torture and death.

Ruth's voice breaks through his thoughts.  
"Are you sure it's a good idea - for you to go to Belfast?"  
Her concern is written clearly across her face, causing a little frown to settle between her eyes. Harry suppresses the urge to get up and smooth it away with his thumb. It is such an alien thing for him, to have someone worry about him like this, that he's not always sure how to handle it. He's trying, very hard, to be more open with her, but there are times, like now, when he wishes not to examine his own motives too closely, and is tempted to hide behind the excuse of 'operational necessity'. He frames his answer carefully: "The Home Secretary expects me to be there…"  
He can tell immediately that she is not impressed with his answer. He sighs, and tries again: "I still have some contacts there that can be useful to us, and God knows, we're going to need all the help we can get."  
"Harry." There is mild reproach in her tone, as though she is disappointed in him, rather than upset about his evasion. His default defence mechanism is to get annoyed.  
"What exactly are you afraid of? It's been more than thirty years, I'm sure most of those with a grudge against me is long dead, or too old to stalk me and bump me off in the dead of night. I do know how to take care of myself, Ruth!"

She knows him too well to get drawn into an argument, knows that it is an attempt to deflect her attention away from the real issue. So she stays calm.  
"That's not what I'm worried about, and you know it."  
Ruth holds his angry stare, and her soft gaze deflates his anger. His shoulders sag a little.  
"No." It is more an exhalation than a word. "You think I'm going to do something reckless – seek revenge for Bill's death."  
"Am I wrong?"  
"I honestly don't know…"  
She believes him. Harry looks at her, and still, after all these years, she can see the sadness for his friend in his eyes.  
"All I know is that I need some form of closure, Ruth. I have to go. I don't have any plans for revenge, and I won't go looking for trouble. That's the best I can do." He smiles a little. "Besides, you'll be there to keep an eye on me, won't you?"  
She tilts her head at him. "Is that the reason why you're dragging me along on this operation?"  
"I'm 'dragging you along' because I need you."  
She remembers another conference, in another life. "Right. You need my organisational skills again, do you?"  
Harry smiles softly. He remembers too.  
"…That too."

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

_17 November 2010  
The Grid, Meeting room, London_

"We have a problem."  
Those are the last words Harry wants to hear out of Ruth's mouth. He knows there is truth in Ruth's concerns about him going to Belfast, and he wants this operation to be over as soon and as smoothly as possible. That way there will be less chance of him running into anyone connected with Bill's murder. Harry has always been honest with himself, and he knows that if that happens, he won't be able to walk away. He tries to hide his unease behind his usual caustic manner, and purses his lips.  
"Of course," he remarks sardonically. Ruth shoots him a look, then continues.  
"About a month ago, a secret meeting took place between the leaders of Republican Sinn Fein, the Real IRA and the Continuity IRA. We have no idea what was discussed at the meeting. Now, these groups have never before shown any inclination of working together, so why now?"  
She pauses, picks up a piece of paper. "I also, erm, _happened_ upon this." She waves the sheet of paper in the air.  
"It's a letter from Sinn Fein to the Home Secretary." She risks a glance in Harry's direction and sees him close his eyes, and knows that he is contemplating what possibly illegal measures she used to get it.  
"In it they suggest that it would a good idea to hold the next round of talks in Belfast… It's dated three weeks ago."

As they absorb that bombshell, Ruth continues: "There's more." She nods at Beth, who takes up the briefing.  
"G2 has been monitoring a number of people from those splinter groups. About three weeks ago, they lost track of these three men." She points the remote at the screen and the first face appears.  
"Patrick O'Leary. He's known as the logistics man of Republican Sinn Fein. They suspect he's the one who sources their arms and explosives." She clicks and the next image appears.  
"Johnny O'Connell from Continuity IRA. Apparently he's a bit of an IT whiz, who uses his hacking skills to mess with security systems and allow them access to premises where they can steal stuff they need for their home-made bombs, or delivery vans etc." Another click, and the last image appears.  
"Peter Miller." She pauses. "He is Real IRA's best bomb-maker. G2 credits him with building the bomb that destroyed the bridge in South Armagh in July."

Harry rubs a hand over his face as the implications sink in.  
"So, we have an unprecedented meeting between three of the most militant Republican splinter groups, and just after that Sinn Fein suggests to the Home Secretary that the next round of talks be held in Belfast. Then, G2 lose track of three very dangerous men belonging to these splinter groups, and to top it all off, the Home Secretary takes the bait." He stares at the image of Miller grimly, almost angrily.  
"I fear evil deeds are afoot. And we are standing squarely in the path of it."  
"Uh, there's something else," Ruth ventures carefully. Harry's eyes swivel to her, an exasperated look on his face. He loves her dearly, but sometimes she drives him up the wall with her ability to obtain and deliver more bad news. In fact, he'd once yelled at her that 'something else' should be her middle name, and he's tempted to repeat that now, but refrains with a long-suffering air.  
"By all means, let's have it, then."  
"O'Leary was spotted in Turkey two weeks ago, talking to a known arms dealer that also supplies Al Qaeda with explosives. We lost track of him again after that."  
Dimitri takes up the narrative. "My Customs & Excise sources have heard rumours that a large shipment of weapons is headed for Northern Ireland this week, but they have no details of when or where. They've stepped up patrols, but their success rate in Northern Ireland waters is notoriously low."

Lucas frowns at Harry, who is staring at his hands on the table disconsolately. "That's just too many coincidences. They're definitely planning something for this conference."  
Harry rouses himself. "Yes. But what, how, and when? We are woefully short on details." He sounds weary, and there is something in his demeanour that unsettles Ruth, who is watching him closely.  
"Hang on," Lucas continues as something suddenly occurs to him, "since Sinn Fein suggested holding the talks in Belfast, are we saying that they are no longer committed to negotiations, and that they are using the splinter groups to do their dirty work?"  
Ruth shakes her head. "Not necessarily. It's possible that that's the case, but it's also possible that the splinter groups manipulated Sinn Fein to their own ends. Sinn Fein is in a very difficult position at the moment – they want to represent the interests of all Republicans at the talks, but it's increasingly evident that many of the younger leaders are no longer convinced that Gerry Adams and Sinn Fein are doing a good job of representing them. It's possible that Sinn Fein has no idea that an attack is being planned, and that they are being played into thinking the splinter groups will go along with the talks if it is held in Belfast."  
Harry nods grimly. "Hmm. As much as I like to believe the worst of those IRA bastards, let's not jump to conclusions. We need more information." He looks around the table. "So get me some. In the meantime, I'll go and talk to the Home Secretary again, try to make him see sense."  
He gets up. "Lucas, a word in my office, if you would."

- 0 -

"Close the door."  
Lucas does so, and takes a seat across from Harry. He senses a tension bubbling underneath the surface from the man behind the desk, even though none of it is showing in his face.  
Harry looks at him. "When we get to Belfast, I need you to do something."  
He pushes an old file across the desk, and Lucas glances at the name stencilled on the cover.  
"'Steak Knife?'" He looks at Harry quizzically.  
"It's the codename of a very high profile agent I recruited in the PIRA Nutting Squad back in '78. I think he may be of some use to us on this operation."  
"I take it you don't think the Home Secretary will change his mind?"  
Harry scoffs. "Short of me delivering a blueprint of the conference centre with a big red arrow that states 'IRA bomb goes here', and signed by every member of Sinn Fein, I'm not optimistic that he'll see reason, no."

Lucas picks up the file and flicks it open at the last entry. "It says here he was decommissioned in 1998."  
"Yes. Once Sinn Fein agreed to talks, most of our assets were decommissioned, which I think was a mistake. There's no record of what Steak Knife did after his decommissioning, but he's still alive – I've checked – and I think he may have some connection with one or more of the Republican splinter groups. Or if he doesn't, he should at least be able to point us towards someone who does have access."  
"So you want me to find him?"  
Harry's eyes move to a spot over Lucas' shoulder, where he can see Ruth typing away at her station.  
"That won't be necessary."  
Lucas raises an eyebrow. "You know where he is?"  
"No, but before I left Belfast, I put in place some emergency contact protocols with Steak Knife. I told him that even if he were no longer working for me specifically, it would be a good idea for me to be able to contact him, should the need arise." He says nothing about the fact that he made these arrangements with a heart filled with hatred, in the hope that he could exact revenge for his friend's death at a future date. "I'll use that to make contact with him, and go along for the first meeting. After that, you'll have to handle him. I don't think it's wise for me to be seen with anyone connected with the Republicans, in light of my history with Northern Ireland."

Lucas watches Harry carefully. It is blatantly obvious to him that he is not being told the full story. Still, he knows that's the senior man's prerogative, so he focuses on the needs of the operation. "You being at that first meeting is a huge risk. Maybe I should-"  
"No."  
"Look, Harry, this guy was an agent for years, he knows how these things work. I don't think it'll be a problem if I meet him alone."  
Harry's eyes flicker over Lucas' shoulder again for a brief moment, before they return to Lucas' face.  
"Steak Knife and I have unfinished business to discuss."  
Lucas frowns. "If you and this agent have some beef with each other, I think I should know."  
Harry shakes his head. "It's nothing that concerns you, and it has nothing to do with our current operation. I'd like you to keep this between us, thank you Lucas." It's a dismissal.

It is clear from Lucas' expression that he doesn't like the situation, but he nods, and gets up to leave when he remembers something.  
"Oh, I'm worried about the hacker the Republicans have at their disposal. I've gone over the PSNI's security measures, and I'm not sure they have the expertise to counter attempts to corrupt their security cameras and other digital equipment."  
Harry nods. "I was thinking the same thing. Leave it with me."

- 0 -

A few minutes later, Harry strides from his office. As he passes Ruth's desk, their gazes lock briefly, and a mere flick of his eyes communicates to her what he wants. She gives him ten minutes before she follows him to the roof. He is leaning against the parapet, staring across London towards the river, lost in thought.  
"Hi."  
He turns towards her and smiles; that soft, gentle smile he seems to reserve only for her. She smiles back at him.  
"Did you want something, or did you just miss me?"  
Harry laughs softly. "I _always_ miss you, Ruth." As if to prove the point, he leans over and caresses her lips with his. He pulls away before things escalate and he forgets where they are.  
"But I also wanted to tell you I won't make it over tonight. I'm off to see the Home Secretary, and after that I have another matter to attend to. I'll probably finish very late, so…"  
"Okay." Ruth reaches up and wipes her lip gloss from his mouth with her thumb. She knows better than to ask for details. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." Neither of them move, though, and they stand there, lost in each other's eyes for a few moments. Finally, Ruth shakes herself slightly and turns to go. Harry watches her walk away, and when she has almost reached the door, he calls after her.  
"Ruth?"  
She turns towards him, and suddenly he doesn't know how to say what he wants to say.  
"…Nothing."  
She studies him, reading the emotions on his face, then says gently: "I'll miss you tonight, too, Harry."  
She tries not to think about the shadows she can see behind his eyes, and is gone before he can respond.

- 0 -

Lucas waits until Harry has left to see the Home Secretary before he sidles over to Ruth's station, and perches himself on her desk.  
"Anything new?" Ruth starts at the sound of his voice, so lost in concentration on her screen that she didn't hear his approach.  
"Bugger, Lucas! Don't sneak up on people like that!"  
He grins rather unrepentantly until Ruth shakes her head at him.  
"Nope, nothing new since Harry asked about five minutes ago."  
Nodding, he looks around before asking as casually as he can manage, "Harry has an interesting history with Northern Ireland, doesn't he?" Immediately he can sense her tensing slightly.  
"What do you mean?" Her tone is just as casual as his was, and he sighs in defeat, knowing that she will not tell him anything.

Ever since she has come back, he has watched the bond between her and Harry grow. He knows from some of the things that Ros said, that there had been a very close relationship between them before Ruth was forced to leave. There is a lot of speculation in the halls of Thames House about the nature of that relationship, back then _and_ now that she's back, but Lucas has deduced from the diverse stories he's heard that no-one knows for sure. The only thing that is certain is that Ruth is fiercely loyal to Harry, and that Harry, in turn, trusts Ruth above all others. There are times when Lucas is deeply envious of that, as he feels that he is still working at gaining Harry's full trust. He hopes she doesn't tell Harry about his attempt to milk her for information, as that will probably not help his quest to gain the older man's full confidence. But he is concerned enough about the situation to risk it. Besides, he has sensed that she is also worried about Harry going to Belfast, so he decides to be honest.  
"I think Harry has a personal agenda that he plans to pursue in Belfast, and I'm worried that it will interfere with the operation. You've known Harry the longest. I'm not asking you to betray his confidence, but if you see or hear anything that I should know about, will you tell me?" He looks at her earnestly.

Ruth does her best not to show it, but the fact that Lucas is concerned as well unsettles her. It means that whatever Harry had discussed with Lucas earlier, caused him to surmise that Harry has a personal stake in going to Belfast. She trusts Lucas, and she may need an ally before this operation is over, so she finds herself nodding in agreement.

- 0 -

As soon as Ruth can get away, she goes down to Registry, and requisitions all the files about Harry's former agent network in Belfast. The woman behind the counter lifts an eyebrow.  
"My, those files are popular today."  
While she goes off to collect them, Ruth turns the registry book around and scans the entries. She spots Harry's requisition number about halfway down the page, and the file he checked out: 1978/019/611794/STEAK KNIFE.  
It causes a cold feeling of dread to settle low in her stomach.

- 0 -

_Same day, Late Afternoon  
Home Secretary's Office_

When Harry walks into the Home Secretary's office, Richard Dolby is already there. Harry requested that the JIC Chairman attend in the hope that Dolby will back his attempt to have the conference moved. Whatever their personal differences, surely common sense must prevail in the face of the overwhelming indications that the Republican splinter groups are planning something. However, as he walks towards them, he notices the two men exchange a quick conspiratorial glance, and he knows that his hope is futile. A flash of hot anger surges through him, and he has to grit his teeth not to show his disgust right off the bat. Instead he greets them civilly, before getting straight to the heart of the matter.  
"We believe the Republican splinter groups are planning to launch some sort of attack on the Belfast conference."  
The Home Secretary lifts an eyebrow. "You _believe_? Sir Harry…"  
Harry interrupts. "At least hear me out before you dismiss me." He holds the Home Secretary's stare until the politician looks away, and nods at him to continue.

Harry lays out the information, only keeping back their knowledge of the letter Sinn Fein sent to the Home Secretary. He has no idea how Ruth managed to get her hands on that letter, and has decided it's better not to ask. Even without that piece of information, the case for moving the conference is pretty strong, but he can see from the way that Dolby refuses to meet his eye that the Chairman will not go against the Home Secretary, no matter how strong the evidence that Harry is presenting.

When he finishes, the Home Secretary looks at Dolby, before turning back to Harry.  
"As far as I can see, you have nothing concrete. You're making an assumption that all these circumstantial-"  
"With respect, Home Secretary. Intelligence is seldom about concrete evidence. The people planning these things don't always conveniently leave behind their plans in a drawer for us to find. If you've done this job for as long as I have, you learn the hard way that there is no such thing as this many coincidences. I am asking you to trust my instinct on this one." Harry looks at Dolby for support. Dolby clears his throat, and glances at the Home Secretary before he responds.  
"Harry, I'm afraid I have to support the Home Secretary – you have nothing concrete. I think, perhaps, you are letting your history with the IRA cloud your judgement…" He trails off, unnerved by the furious expression on Harry's face. The Home Secretary quickly intervenes.  
"So, the talks will stay in Belfast until such time as you bring me incontrovertible proof that an attack is being planned. Thank you, Sir Harry."  
Harry gets up, breathing hard. "This is folly. You are gambling with the lives of everyone attending that conference. I want my opposition to your decision on the record." He glares at the Home Secretary until the man nods at him.  
"Fine. Your displeasure is duly noted. But know this. If I have the slightest reason to believe that you are not giving the protection of this conference your fullest commitment, and something happens as a result, I'll have your job."

- 0 -

As the car winds through the streets of night-time London, Harry rests his head wearily against the headrest. His anger has subsided, and in its place a tremendous unease is growing. He feels as though he is caught in a web, and no matter how he twists and turns, he only manages to get himself more entangled. His jumbled thoughts flit between Bill's death, Ruth's concern, the Home Secretary's obvious dislike of him, the probable Republican attack on the conference, Steak Knife, and his own growing desire for vengeance.  
"Sir?" His security officer's voice breaks through his contemplation, and Harry realises the car has stopped.  
"We're here."

Harry looks out the window at the house in front of him, and wonders what right he has to be here, to ask this of someone who has already given so much. But as always, he pushes his personal feelings aside, and does what he believes is necessary for the success of the operation. He gets out, and rings the doorbell. After about half a minute, the door opens, and Harry looks into the astonished face of his old friend.  
"Hello, Malcolm."

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

_Wednesday 17 November, Evening  
Malcolm's house, London_

They're sitting in two comfortable wingback chairs, positioned in front of the fire. Harry is cradling a tumbler of whisky, staring into the fire absently as Malcolm observes him. His old boss looks weary, troubled. Harry takes a sip before turning to Malcolm.  
"How have you been, Malcolm?"  
"Oh well, I can't complain. Life is… calm." He smiles to himself.  
"I'd have thought you'd be living by the sea by now."  
Malcolm takes a sip of his own drink before answering. "I have a cottage north of Scarborough where I go during the summer. In winter though, I prefer to be closer to civilisation."  
"North of Scarborough?" Harry asks in surprise. "That's on the North Yorkshire moors, isn't it?" He looks at Malcolm inquiringly. "I guess I always pictured you in Cornwall."  
"Oh Lord no," Malcolm sniffs dismissively, "too many yobs descending on the place in summer."

Harry stifles a smile – he finds it comforting that retirement hasn't changed Malcolm as of yet, and he realises, again, how much he has missed him. He watches as Malcolm shifts in his chair awkwardly, and sees a glimmer of guilt in his eyes when he asks, "So, er, how's Ruth? What happened to her after…"  
Harry decides to take pity on him. "It's all right, Malcolm. I know she writes to you."  
The relief on Malcolm's face is almost comical. "Oh." A thought suddenly occurs to him. "Does she know you know?"  
It's Harry's turn to look awkward. "Er, no, and I think we should keep it that way, yes?"  
Malcolm nods in agreement, before asking: "You don't mind?"  
Harry looks up in surprise. "No, of course not. Why would I mind?"  
"Well, it _is_ against regulations, for one."  
"Yes, I know." He sighs wearily. "But after what happened… She needs friends she can trust, Malcolm. The two of you have always had a special bond, and I see no reason to deny her that because of some rule."

As Harry looks back at the fire, Malcolm shakes his head in wonder.  
"I never thought I'd see the day. Old hard-hearted Harry Pearce has softened at last." He pauses, weighing the wisdom of his next words, but the need to let his old friend know that they have his support wins out.  
"I'm happy for the two of you, Harry."  
Harry's head snaps back to him, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight.  
Malcolm hurriedly continues. "She wrote to me that you've been seeing each other. I think it's wonderful, the two of you have always just fitted together." He pauses again, before sticking his neck out further. "She's good for you. And you make her very happy, you know. Although what she sees in you is beyond me…"  
The last bit is meant as a joke, but it doesn't have the desired effect on Harry. Instead, he looks stricken, and somewhat sad. "No. Neither do I." He turns his gaze back to the fire.  
Appalled, Malcolm hurries to repair any damage he may have caused. "Oh, no! Harry, I didn't mean-"  
Harry waves a hand in the air, and gives him a sad smile.  
"I know, Malcolm. I'm sorry. I'm a little maudlin tonight."  
Mollified, Malcolm takes another sip of his drink, before continuing.  
"I'm sorry about Jo and Ros."  
Harry nods, and rubs a hand tiredly over his eyes. "So am I."

They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room as both contemplate lost colleagues, before Malcolm speaks again.  
"Nice as it is to see you, Harry, this is not a social visit, is it?"  
Harry's eyes linger on the fire for a few more seconds, before he squares his shoulders and looks at Malcolm.  
"No." He sighs. "I have no right to ask you this, but I need your help."  
As he explains the situation, he watches Malcolm carefully, and he doesn't fail to notice the spark of interest in the techie's eyes at the mention of Johnny O'Connell and his hacker skills. When he finishes his account, Malcolm stares down at his drink, deep in thought, and Harry holds his breath. Finally he looks up and meets Harry's eye.  
"What do you need me to do?"

It's the answer Harry has been hoping for. He feels like getting up and hugging Malcolm, but he doesn't want to freak the man out with such an uncharacteristic gesture, so he settles for a grateful smile instead.  
"I want to keep you off the radar. If things go wrong, I don't want you to be connected to this operation in any way. The only people who'll know of your involvement is myself and Ruth. She'll be running our operations centre at the hotel, but I don't want you on the premises. You need to go to Belfast as soon as possible, and find a place to use as your own operations centre close to the hotel. The conference will be held at the Culloden Estate – it's on Bangor Road in Holywood. Here." Harry draws a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Malcolm.  
"Those are contact details for two men in Belfast who owes me a few favours. Tell them Harry sent you, and they'll help you get whatever you need. As soon as you're settled, let me know, and Ruth'll send you everything we have on O'Connell's modus operandi. You need to work on blocking any attempts he'll make to interfere with the PSNI's digital equipment, or possible remote detonation in the case of a bombing attempt. Remember, Malcolm, you only contact either Ruth or myself. No-one else will know that you're there. Yes?"

Malcolm nods. "Actually, I've been working on a few things that may come in handy." He notices Harry's amused glance. "It's, er, good to keep the old noggin ticking over…"  
"Well, I'm sure the neighbours will be thrilled to know that you've been building state-of-the-art spying equipment in the back shed," Harry can't help but tease, and Malcolm laughs.  
"I need you to do something else for me." Harry has turned serious again, and Malcolm can sense that Harry is uneasy about asking him this, so he nods at him to continue.  
"I need you to source two things for me. An older model Land Rover… and a gun."

- 0 -

_Thursday 18 November, Morning  
The Grid, London_

Despite getting home very late, Harry is still the first one back on the Grid the next morning. He feels slightly better about the operation after having secured Malcolm's assistance, but he knows they are still in the dark about too many things. It would seem that any hope he'd had of avoiding contact with anyone linked to his time in Belfast was fast receding. He knows that he has no other choice but to contact Steak Knife, in the hope that the former agent can provide them with the breakthrough they need.

_Steak Knife_. Harry sits motionless, as the memory of the last time he saw the agent wash agonisingly over him. He can still remember every little detail as though it had happened only yesterday: himself and Bill in the pub, and the two PIRA Nutting Squad members bursting in, guns drawn, snatching Bill. He was forced to watch, helpless, as his friend was dragged off, and he'll never forget the two men who did so - Patrick McCann, and his own agent, Steak Knife.

With a sigh, he turns to his computer, and types out the message to be placed in the _Belfast Telegraph_ classifieds, under Deaths. The doors swoosh open and Ruth enters, just as he clicks on the Send button. She glances towards his office, and smiles at him when he catches her eye. After dumping her overstuffed handbag on her desk, she comes into his office, and on impulse Harry gets up and envelops her in a hug.  
"Morning," he murmurs into her hair, and tries to ignore the little voice telling him his actions are an attempt to salve his guilty conscience for not informing her about Steak Knife. The tight squeeze she gives him in return goes a long way to soothe his troubled thoughts, before reality asserts itself and he wonders morosely whether he is about to ruin it all.

They pull apart, and slip back into work mode effortlessly.  
"Please tell me we've found documents conveniently setting out the dastardly plans of those bloody Republicans?" His voice is resigned, as he can already tell from her face that there is no new information to offer him.  
"Sorry. No luck with the Home Secretary then, I take it?"  
Harry grimaces. "None. He seems hell-bent on allowing the Republicans every opportunity to launch an attack. In fact, he's probably hoping it will happen just so he can have the pleasure of firing me, of course rather stupidly forgetting that he will probably be too dead to do so. Moron."  
Just as Ruth is about to reply, Harry's phone rings. He glances at the screen. "I'll have to take this, but I need to talk to you later – the Embankment. I'll let you know." With that she is dismissed, and the day starts in earnest.

- 0 -

"Ruth, do you know where Lucas is?"  
Ruth looks up from her computer to see Beth hovering before her desk, looking worried. She glances at her watch – it's nearly 11:00, and Lucas is supposed to brief them on the PSNI's security measures then. A glance at Harry's office confirms that he is back from his meeting in time, and she knows that Lucas' absence will annoy him.  
She shakes her head at Beth. "He hasn't been in yet this morning. Has he said anything to you?"  
"No, nothing. But he's been disappearing regularly for the last few weeks." Beth casts an anxious glance at Harry's pacing form.  
"Harry's going to be apoplectic if Lucas doesn't pitch for the briefing."  
Ruth knows Beth is probably right. In light of Lucas' history, Harry gives him more leeway than he did with most of his other team leaders, but she also knows there is a limit to Harry's patience, and given the pressures of the Northern Ireland operation, she fears what his reaction to Lucas' latest disappearing act will be. Just then Harry strides out of his office, calling them all to the meeting room.

They file in, Beth and Ruth exchanging a nervous glance. Dimitri bounds in, seemingly unaware of the underlying tension in the room.  
"Where's Lucas?" Harry's voice has a dangerous edge to it, causing everyone to avoid eye contact with their smouldering boss. As the silence stretches out, Dimitri glances around the table before speaking up.  
"While we wait, I have something new from my Customs & Excise sources."  
"Fine." Harry bites off the word.  
"Last night they intercepted a small boat near Ballycastle in the north. Unfortunately, it was on its way out from the coast. It was empty when they searched it, but tests have confirmed that explosives had been transported in the hold recently. They're holding the skipper of the boat."  
"Brilliant. Once again they arrived just _after_ the nick of time." Harry's mood has clearly not been improved by the latest news. He's about to continue his complaints, when he catches a slightly reproachful look from Ruth. Taking a deep breath, he makes an effort to rein in his anger and not shoot the messenger.  
"Still, it's something. Beth, Dimitri, get over there and talk to the skipper. Get me _something_! The time for delicacy is over, so do what you have to, just… don't give me too much to deny, all right?"  
They nod and start gathering their papers.  
"And when Lucas gets here, I want to see him immediately." The dangerous, deceptively calm tone of voice is back, and a chorus of "Yes, Harry" follows him out of the room.

- 0 -

It is closer to 12:00 when Lucas steps onto the Grid. Ruth, who has been keeping an eye out for him, moves to intercept him, but before she gets a chance to warn him, Harry's voice cuts through the air.  
"Lucas!"  
Ruth gives him a sympathetic smile, and Lucas reluctantly moves towards Harry's office.  
As soon as he's inside, Harry impatiently instructs, "Close the bloody door!"  
He waits until Lucas has done so before continuing.  
"Where were you?"  
"I had… things to take care of." He doesn't look Harry in the eye, but he can still sense Harry's anger rise another notch.  
"Are these _things_ in any way connected to the Northern Ireland operation?"  
"… No. Look, Harry, I…"  
"For God's sake, Lucas! We're about to walk into a very dangerous situation in Northern Ireland. I need you on top of your game, not swanning off to do God knows what at the most inconvenient of times! I will not allow your personal life to interfere with an operation-"  
Lucas' head snaps up. "That's rich, coming from you."  
Harry's eyes narrow and he stands up abruptly, sending his chair scuttling across the floor. "_What did you say_?!"  
Lucas meets his stare squarely. "Are you denying, Harry, that you have a personal stake in this operation? Are you going to lie to my face – _again_– and tell me your personal feelings about the IRA are not going to come into play during our time in Belfast?!"

The two men glare at each other across the desk, neither willing to give an inch. Finally, Harry breaks the tense silence, his voice dangerously low and controlled.  
"Don't make me regret my decision to make you Section Chief. I've given you a lot of leeway because of your… situation, but my patience is wearing thin. I will not tolerate you ignoring my orders again, is that clear?"  
"Very." Lucas continues to hold Harry's look with a challenging one of his own, before turning on his heel.

Harry drags his chair back to the desk and sits down heavily. When he picks up his pen, he notices that his hand is trembling. He closes his eyes, but it doesn't stop Lucas' accusation ringing in his ears. Exasperated, he flings down the pen, gets up and grabs his coat, and steps out of the office.  
"Ruth." She looks up. "Come with me now."  
He waits until she has collected her coat, before ushering her through the doors.

- 0 -

They are seated on their favourite bench on the Embankment, looking across the river at the Houses of Parliament. The November afternoon air is cold, but at least it isn't raining, for which Ruth is extremely grateful. She loves being back in London, but sometimes she misses the warm, sunny climate of Cyprus. She tucks her scarf into her coat more securely before turning to study Harry. It is obvious from the red hue of his face and his moody silence during the walk over that the confrontation with Lucas has got to him.  
"A penny for them?"  
Turning his head towards her, he gives her an awkward smile.  
"Sorry. I didn't mean to drag you out here in the cold to listen to me think."  
"Hmm. Much as I love coming here with you, it would be helpful if you tell me what it's all about before we turn into popsicles." She looks at him inquiringly.  
Harry devours the sight of her, his gaze travelling slowly over her features. Noticing the trusting, open look she is giving him, he suddenly wishes he was worthy of the faith she places in him. For as they sit there, he so desperately wants to tell her everything; confess about his plans to contact Steak Knife, and how the idea of vengeance is slowly growing in his heart, squeezing out all other thought, and that he no longer knows how to change the path he is choosing. But he cannot find the words, does not know how to articulate his thoughts in a way that would make sense to a sane person, a moral person, like Ruth.

Instead he sticks to operational matters, despising himself for his cowardice.  
"I've asked Malcolm to help us with this operation." He watches her reaction carefully, worried that his decision to involve her friend will be yet another thing that she can disapprove of. Instead she smiles slightly, and looks at the river.  
"I thought you might. What did he say?"  
"He said yes."  
She nods. "Of course he did. How is he?"  
"He looks well. Sends his regards. He was happy to hear you'd come back to us…" He tries to sound casual, but something in his voice must have given it away, because she turns towards him with an accusatory look.  
"You know!"  
Holding her gaze, he smiles gently. "That you've been writing to each other? Yes." He looks at his hands.  
"Are you angry?" This time it is Ruth who sounds apprehensive.  
"No!" He gestures helplessly. "Why does everyone assume that I'll be angry about this? Am I that pedantic about the rules?" His indignant expression makes her laugh.  
"Well… Just when it pertains to personnel matters. When it comes to operational rules, you tend to veer the other way." She lays a cold hand against his cheek to placate him. "But I love you anyway, pedant or not."

In response, he takes her cold hand between his two gloved ones, warming it, whilst explaining that they will be the only two to know of Malcolm's presence. But whilst he's talking, she can see the growing sadness in Harry's eyes, and she knows for certain that he is not telling her everything.

- 0 -

_Friday 19 November, evening  
Ruth's house, London_

It's late, and Harry stares at the darkened ceiling of Ruth's bedroom, listening to her even breathing as she sleeps snuggled against him. His brain refuses to shut down, and he goes over the day's developments again. They received no new information; Dimitri and Beth's interrogation of the skipper only proved that the man is nothing more than a mule who has no idea of the details of the operation. Although there is a lingering tension between himself and Lucas, they've tacitly agreed to set aside their personal differences for the duration of the operation, but Harry knows he will have to have another conversation with his Section Chief to sort things out. The only positive development was a communication from Malcolm indicating that he's found a place close to the hotel, and is all set up.  
And of course, there is Steak Knife.

That morning, he had opened the Financial Times with mixed feelings, looking for Steak Knife's answering advertisement. He is honestly no longer sure which outcome he would have preferred; but there it was, black on white, providing the final impetus. As soon as he saw it, he knew for certain that he would not let this opportunity pass him by – that he would use the trip to Belfast to exact revenge for Bill's murder.

Ruth moves slightly, and her naked leg rubs against his. Harry turns his head and softly kisses her forehead, the anxiety in the pit of his stomach increasing at the thought that what he is about to do has the potential to ruin everything he has with her. He is ashamed that that thought is not enough to stop him from doing it. There's nothing he wants more than to be honest with her, but he's not sure she will understand that the manner of Bill's death is the single biggest regret of his life. It is the one thing he cannot reconcile himself with, even after thirty two years, and every time he loses another officer, it is Bill's face that he sees. He knows that it is largely responsible for the emotionally reticent man he has become; that it was his first brutal lesson in the art of repressing personal feelings in the defence of the realm.

Of course he doesn't blame all his limitations on it; Harry is well aware that he could never have taken the decision to sacrifice Bill for the good of the operation, and so many other decisions that followed it, if there hadn't been a ruthless streak in his personality to start with. But he often wonders whether the psychological impact on him would have been less if it hadn't been his best friend of fifteen years who'd been the first mutilated corpse he'd had to identify.

Ruth protests slightly in her sleep, and Harry realises he must have unconsciously been tightening his hold on her as he thought about his past. He lets go, and she turns away from him onto her other side. Although it is something she has done almost every night they have spent together, tonight it causes panic to flood through Harry – it is as though she can sense what is in his mind, and is already distancing herself from him. He rolls over too, spooning himself against her back, and carefully wraps an arm around her. She sighs, and relaxes against him, entwining their legs. Relieved, Harry buries his face in her hair and tries to sleep, tries not to think about the fact that tomorrow he'll be back in Belfast for the first time in thirty two long years.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

_Saturday 20 November, Morning  
Belfast_

The plane breaks through the cloud cover, giving Ruth her first glimpse of Belfast. Although she knows, rationally, that Belfast is in no way a war zone, she almost expects the city to be scarred and riddled with dilapidated buildings, but instead it seems well maintained and bustling in the grey November weather. She shakes her head at herself, knowing that her expectations have been greatly influenced by Harry's previous experiences, the threat they are facing from the Republican splinter groups, and of course the growing emotional tension she is feeling.

The previous night, Harry had stayed over to allow them some quality time together before the operation starts. They both accept that they will not be sleeping together during their time in Belfast, as not only will it be unprofessional; it will be almost impossible to do so without Tariq noticing due to the electronic surveillance equipment he has installed. It also goes against both Ruth and Harry's desire to keep their private lives private. So, they wanted a last bit of intimacy before facing almost a week with only professional interaction. Instead, it proved to be an uncomfortable evening. Both of them were on edge, and Ruth tried to compensate by being just a little too cheerful. She could tell that Harry noticed, just as she noticed how he was beginning to close himself off emotionally. Neither of them had the courage to confront the matter head-on, and they went to bed with the elephant still very much in the room.

Ruth was woken in the early morning hours by Harry becoming restless, and almost squeezing the breath from her as he clutched her closely against him. She knew immediately that he was having another of his nightmares, and would put good money on it being about the death of his friend. It took some effort to wriggle free of his embrace, so that she could turn around and gently wake him, holding him and murmuring soothing words in his ear. After he'd finally calmed down, Harry had lifted his head from her neck and looked at her with such anguish that she felt her heart break for him. They had made love, both feeling a desperate need to get as close to each other as possible. Afterwards, as they lay in each other's arms, she was absolutely terrified that it would be the last time they would be together like that.

And now here they are at last. As they step from the plane, the wind lashes a cold rain at them, and they hurry to the waiting cars. Harry and Ruth are directed to the car that holds MI5's Head of Station in Belfast, Ronald Perkins, with Lucas and Beth joining his deputy in the other car. As they drive to the hotel, Perkins prattles on about what an honour it is, and how Harry is still a legend around these parts. Ruth looks at Harry out of the corner of her eye, but 'the legend' is staring out of the window with a distant expression on his face, his shoulders rigid. It seems that he is not listening to a word that is being said, until he suddenly interrupts curtly.  
"Shall we move past the buttering up, to the part where you tell me what information you have about the imminent attack on the lives of the prominent British politicians that are soon to arrive on these shores?"

Perkins blanches, and it takes him a few seconds to adjust to the change in topic. Ruth can't help but feel a bit sorry for him. He has obviously chosen exactly the wrong approach to Harry Pearce in his current mood, and Ruth suspects he will be paying for it for the duration of the operation.  
"Er, right. Well, we've tapped up all available Republican sources, but so far we haven't picked up as much as a peep."  
"Really." Harry's focus is fully on the hapless Perkins now, and Ruth can tell from his expression that he is about to move into scathingly sarcastic mode.  
"And what do you deduce from that fact?"  
Perkins moves nervously in his seat. "Erm, I think there's probably not going to be an attack after all-"  
"Do you."  
"Well yes. The Republicans' security is notoriously weak – it's improbable that news of such a big operation will not leak out." Foolishly, Perkins seems to have gained some confidence, and is now trying to impress Harry with his analysis. However, the great man remains distinctly unimpressed.  
"Hmm. How many Republican sources are you running at the moment?"  
The Head of Station pales slightly.  
"It's difficult to say precisely, we have a lot of occasional contacts on the b-"  
"Actually it's not difficult at all. Three. That's how many miserly sources you have. You can count to three, can't you?"  
Perkins swallows, but before he can say anything, Harry steamrollers on.  
"So, you asked a whole three sources whether they knew anything, all of whom are probably part of Sinn Fein and therefore nowhere near any of the Republican splinter groups – you have heard that there are a number of splinter groups, haven't you – and then deduced that my _best analyst_ doesn't know what she's talking about. I'd be a little insulted if I were her."  
"Harry," Ruth tries to intervene, but Harry ignores her.  
"Aren't you insulted, Ruth?"  
"Harry!" She glares at him. "This isn't helping."  
"No, you're right. Mr. Perkins isn't helping." He turns back to the Head of Station.  
"I want you and your incompetence nowhere near this operation. You will provide us with equipment as and when we ask for it, but otherwise you will stay as far away as possible. Understood?"

The man nods miserably, and is saved from having to reply as they pull up in front of the hotel. Harry is out of the car before it has properly come to a halt, marching off towards the lobby. Ruth smiles apologetically at Perkins, whilst silently cursing Harry for making her life a lot more difficult, as it is she who will have to deal with Perkins when they need anything from the local officers.

She catches up with Harry at the check-in counter as Lucas and Beth come through the doors, and dumps her shoulder bag with a thud.  
"That was mature!" Annoyance radiates from her. Lucas and Beth share a glance.  
"What?" Harry doesn't look at Ruth, but bangs on the little counter bell again impatiently. Ruth yanks at his sleeve to turn him towards her.  
"We have to work with him, Harry! We're going to need the support of the local officers, and you've just made my job a whole lot harder by being incredibly rude and patronising. Do you have any idea how much I'll have to sweet-talk him to get him on side again?!"  
"Well, that's your job, isn't it?" Harry turns away again, and Ruth loses it.  
"No it damn well isn't! I'm an _analyst_, not your bloody secretary! Yet I always seem to end up with the unpleasant task of cleaning up the messes you leave in your wake."  
Clearly surprised at the vehemence of her response, Harry tries to back-pedal.  
"Ruth…"  
But Ruth grabs her key, collects her bag and stomps off, calling over her shoulder towards Beth: "I'll be in the Operations Centre in half an hour."  
Harry is left standing at the counter, looking chastised and slightly lost, staring after her departing figure.

- 0 -

_Same day, Evening  
Belfast, Culloden Estate Hotel_

Beth walks along the corridor towards their Operations Centre, enjoying the rare moment of quiet. It has been a busy day. Ever since their arrival, she and Ruth have been setting up the Operations Centre, double checking that the surveillance equipment installed earlier by Tariq was operational and fed into their computers correctly. She has also been preparing for her role as hotel liaison to the Sinn Fein delegation, making sure she knows the ins and outs of the hotel layout, management and services. Better to be meticulously prepared and not give Harry any reason to bite her head off, as she's noticed that he seems unusually on edge. But no matter how busy she's been, she knows poor Ruth has done even more.

She has been constantly on the phone, either to Tariq or Dimitri back in London, or to the local MI5 contingent or the SPNI, coordinating all avenues of information in her usual efficient way. And of course, in between Harry and Lucas have been in and out, also making demands. Beth shakes her head; she is truly in awe of the other woman. She has never encountered anyone with the same ability to connect seemingly obscure pieces of information to form a coherent intelligence picture, and to top it all, her organisational skills are also proving to be unrivalled. No wonder Harry values her so highly.

This brings her thoughts to the subject of Harry and Ruth, and the nature of their relationship. Beth has heard all the rumours doing the rounds about what is going on between them. The gossips in Thames House have been all too eager to inform her about the whole Cotterdam affair, and how the Head of Section D had been prepared to go to jail to save his Senior Analyst, but that she apparently sacrificed her career and her life in London instead to save him in the end. No-one knows what truly happened, though, and sadly none of the Section D personnel from that time is still around to pump for information.

Beth has tried not to think too much about the high turnover and what it means for her life expectancy. Instead, she has been watching Harry and Ruth carefully over the last month, and she thinks they may be dating, but she has no proof. It is more of a woman's intuition, based on the very subtle nuances in their interaction. Harry seems, to her eye, to be ever so slightly more gentle and courteous with Ruth than he is with anyone else, and Ruth… Well, Ruth seems to be just a tad more concerned about Harry's welfare than a mere employee would be about her boss.

She thinks back to their little spat that morning. There are very few people who can talk to Harry Pearce like that and live to tell the tale. In fact, there had been no reaction from Harry whatsoever; when they'd gathered in the Operations Centre a little later, Beth had subtly watched them. When Ruth had entered, Harry had looked at her slightly anxiously, without saying anything. Ruth, in turn, had merely given him a small smile, and after that they had interacted as per normal. For the rest of the day Harry has been a perfect gentleman, saying 'please' and 'thank you' every time he asked Ruth to do something. Ruth has been subdued all day, but as Beth watches her from the doorway, she seems to have got over it and appears her normal friendly self again.

Unbeknownst to Beth, Ruth is pondering the events of the day as well. She realised as soon as she had calmed down a bit that her reaction towards Harry had been a result of her fears about the impact this operation would have on them, rather than about what had happened in the car. She knows he is right in his evaluation of the local Station Head – the man really is rather useless. MI5 is, unfortunately, now paying for the fact that it has used Northern Ireland as a dumping ground in the last few years for any officers that couldn't hack it anywhere else, or who have messed up and need to be punished. So she gave Harry a reassuring smile when she saw him again, to let him know that they are okay.

Despite that, though, he has been walking on egg shells around her all day, and when she got back to her room earlier, she found a single dark red rose and a short note on her pillow. She recognised the rose as being from a large arrangement in the hotel lobby, and finds the thought of Harry staking out the lobby for the right opportunity to pilfer the flower rather endearing. The note, written in his scrawl that she knows so well, merely says: "_You're __everything__ to me._" She is deeply touched by his gesture.

"Ruth?"  
She is brought out of her reverie by Beth's voice. "Are you hungry?"  
"Starving!"  
"Since the boys are out meeting with… someone, why don't we have a girls' night and have dinner in the very opulent dining room?" Beth grins at her. "We can debate which of our male colleagues have the cutest bum, among other things."  
Ruth laughs. "Great idea. Come on then."  
As they pass through the lobby, Beth notices Ruth pay particular attention to a large arrangement of roses that doesn't look quite right.

- 0 -

_Same day, Evening  
Outskirts of Belfast_

Harry turns the car into the _cul de sac_, and immediately pulls into the kerb, killing the lights. The only sound is the rain drumming on the roof, and his own and Lucas' breathing. They both stare down the road, although very little can be seen through the rain. The streetlights illuminate the road, but do not throw much light on the houses either side. There's a rustle of paper from Harry's left, before a small flashlight clicks on.  
"It's the last house on the right." Lucas peers at the surveillance photos in the small shaft of light. "Open approach to the front door, so at least no-one can lurk in the bushes." He clicks off the flashlight. "On the other hand, anyone lying in wait in the house will see us coming for miles."

Harry's gloved hands tighten around the wheel, the leather creaking softly in the silence. After having driven around the city for two hours, making sure that they are not being followed, they are finally here, looking at the rendezvous address provided by Steak Knife. The thought that he is about to see the man again that dragged his friend out of that pub fills Harry with revulsion and nervous excitement in equal measure.

Lucas turns his head to look at Harry. He can barely make out the older man's profile in the darkness. They haven't spoken much since picking up the car from one of the local officers. Harry drove to one of the nearby parks, told Lucas to wait in the car, and disappeared into the rain. About fifteen minutes later he came back and tossed a newspaper into Lucas' lap. Inside were the surveillance photos of their destination, as well as a log of comings and goings at the house over the last two days, and records of phone calls made to and from the premises. Lucas' enquiries as to the source of the information was ignored, and he let it go, focussing instead on studying the information while Harry drove around the city.

"What do you think?" Even though Harry keeps his voice low, it sounds loud in the silence of the car. Lucas takes a deep breath, and thinks again about the information provided by the surveillance records.  
"The house belongs to Steak Knife's mother. Over the last two days, only the old lady and her son were seen entering it. No unusual phone calls in or out." He pauses, and glances at Harry.  
"I guess the question is whether Steak Knife has reason to hate you enough to set a trap for you."  
Harry's eyes stay on the house as he answers. "No more than usual in this job." There is nothing in his voice or his demeanour to indicate whether he is lying.

Lucas looks at his boss again. He's done some reading up on developments in Northern Ireland during Harry's time there, trying to figure out what Harry's angle could be. It is certainly impressive how much Harry's team had achieved in a short time – the agent network they had built up remains unparalleled in MI5's history in the territory. In fact they were so successful that the PIRA began to target MI5 officers for the first time in the conflict, leading to the death of one of Harry's officers, and Harry's redeployment on safety grounds. Harry himself had earlier been captured and tortured, and then forced to watch as the PIRA Nutting Squad lined up men suspected of being his agents and brutally torturing them in front of him. Many of those being tortured were in fact innocent, and it was during this ordeal that Harry managed to recruit Steak Knife. It was a formidable and instinctive achievement for an officer on his first assignment, especially one who was only twenty-four at the time.

At first Lucas had thought that Harry may be seeking revenge on those in the PIRA that had tortured him, but the experienced spook seems to take any activity targeted at himself with unusual equanimity. No, it is only when one of his people are targeted that he seems to deem retributive action necessary. It is this realisation that makes the penny drop for Lucas.  
"Steak Knife may not have reason to kill you, but you certainly have a reason to want to kill him, don't you? I'd bet anything that he was involved in the killing of that MI5 officer in 1978 – _your_officer."

There is not the slightest reaction from Harry. The silence stretches on between them, and just when Lucas gives up on getting an answer, Harry finally speaks, his voice a monotone.  
"I'm not going to kill him." The _not yet_ is unspoken, but Lucas can hear it as clear as a bell. Harry turns to look at Lucas.  
"This is the last throw of the dice, Lucas. We need information, or this operation will go very badly for all of us." He looks towards the house again.  
"Any repugnance I may feel towards him will have to be buried, for the good of the operation." There is a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "So, I ask again – what do you think?"  
Lucas traces the path to the front door with his eyes one more time. "I think we'll have to take the direct approach."  
Harry smiles for the first time that night. "Let's go and knock on the front door, shall we?"  
They both get out of the car and begin to advance on the house.

- 0 -

_Same Day, Evening  
Hotel Dining Room_

"Harry," Beth decides.  
"_Harry?_" Ruth is incredulous. "You think _Harry_ has the cutest bum of all our male colleagues?"  
They have had a good meal, and are sharing a bottle of wine. This, together with the ambience and Beth's uncomplicated, friendly company, has made Ruth feel more relaxed than she has been since this operation started. She has missed this; she hasn't really had a trusted female friend since Jo died. Maybe she can build the same bond with Beth, especially since she can sense the same desire from Beth's side. They've agreed not to talk about work during the meal, and have finally moved onto the topic of the derrieres of their colleagues. Ruth has plumped for Lucas, but she is stunned – and disconcerted – at Beth's choice.

"Wait a minute, have you even seen Harry's bum, Beth? I mean, it's forever being hidden by his suit jacket." She doesn't realise that this observation is proof that she herself has paid attention to the visibility of that part of Harry's anatomy.  
Beth waves a hand in the air. "Oh, he's walked around the Grid in shirtsleeves a couple of times." She eyes Ruth with a twinkle in her eye.  
"Come on, you don't find him sexy?"  
Ruth takes a gulp of wine before meeting Beth's eye. The mischief is clearly written across the other woman's face, and Ruth finally understands what's going on.  
"You've heard all the gossip about us, and now you're fishing, aren't you?"

Beth can see that Ruth is hurt and annoyed, so she hurries to explain.  
"No, I'm not fishing. I'm only teasing, Ruth. What does or does not go on between you and Harry is none of my business. But I'm very observant, and I think I can read people pretty well, so I'll tell you what I think: I think you two are dating, and if I'm right, I think it's great. You have that whole 'meeting of minds' thing going on." She makes quotation marks in the air, and looks at her companion expectantly. Ruth is staring at the table, her hands fiddling compulsively with the linen napkin. She has been caught totally unawares by this line of conversation.  
"Beth, I… You really find him sexy?"  
Beth laughs. "Yes I do. Of course, I find all our male colleagues rather sexy, but Harry has that extra… cuddly quality."  
"Oh, God," Ruth groans.  
"Don't worry. The man only has eyes for you. So, if you aren't dating him yet, you should ask him out – he's a dish."  
"Okay, please stop." Ruth looks at her pleadingly. "Can we change the subject?"

Beth laughs merrily, but Ruth still seems uncomfortable, so she sobers and reaches across the table to squeeze Ruth's hand.  
"I'm sorry, Ruth. You don't have to worry; I'm not going to tell anyone anything. I'm not a gossip, and besides…" For the first time Beth looks a little hesitant. "I'd like us to be friends, and I value trust in a friendship very highly. So no matter what you tell me, or don't tell me, as the case may be, it stays between us."  
Ruth smiles gratefully. "I'd like that, too."

- 0 -

_Same Day, Evening  
Outskirts of Belfast_

As they near the front of the house, Lucas instinctively moves slightly in front of Harry. Although he is touched by the gesture, Harry taps Lucas on the shoulder and shakes his head at him. He points towards the street, and Lucas turns to watch their backs as Harry moves towards the door cautiously. He reaches it without incident, takes a deep breath, and knocks. After a few seconds, he can hear footsteps approaching, and keeps his eyes trained on the fisheye. The hairs on the back of his neck rises, and he knows he is being observed. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens. And after thirty two years, Harry and Steak Knife look each other in the eye.

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

_Saturday 20 November, Evening  
Outskirts of Belfast_

"Hello, Liam." Harry is surprised at how steady his voice is.  
"Well, well, well. I thought you'd be dead by now." The lilting Irish accent does not fool Harry; he can see his former agent is still the same hard, dangerous and intelligent man that he recruited all those years ago.  
Liam leads them along the corridor to a small sitting room in the back. As they pass a door, Harry glances in, and sees an old woman watching a muted TV. Liam notices him looking.  
"Me Mam. Don't bother greeting, she's as deaf as a post."

They settle on the sofa and two chairs. Ever since entering the house, Harry has felt all his senses sharpen, and the old, familiar, cold control and focus settle over him. It seems he'll never lose the instincts that kept him alive during his years as a field agent. Liam splashes some Scotch into three glasses without asking, and hands them around. As he settles back on the sofa, he nods in Lucas' direction.  
"Who's this then?"  
Harry regards Steak Knife clinically, noting every shift in expression on the man's face; trying to gauge whether he would still be willing to act as an agent, and picking up on an underlying belligerence in his posture which does not bode well. Lucas remains quiet, waiting to see how things play out between Harry and his former agent. Harry's eyes, hard and dark, remain on Liam's face as he answers on Lucas' behalf.  
"That's John, a colleague of mine."  
He is so focussed on the Irishman that he does not notice Lucas start at the choice of name.

Liam laughs mirthlessly. "'Course it is. That's the trouble with you lot – no imagination when it comes to legends. You're all fuckin' called John."  
"Hmm. And the trouble with the Irish is that even when there are only five of you, you still manage to form three political parties and about seven splinter groups." Harry takes a sip of his drink, before continuing casually.  
"So what are you these days? I can't see you as a Sinn Fein member, all committed to dialogue and a peaceful solution. No, I'm guessing you call one of the many Republican splinter groups home nowadays."

Lucas can only marvel at how effortlessly Harry has steered the conversation to where he wants it to be. Liam smiles at Harry, but there is no warmth in it.  
"I've retired." There's a defiant note in his voice, and Harry's stare hardens even more.  
"I thought revolutionaries only retire when they die." There is an implied threat in the statement.  
Liam gives a bark of laughter, and looks at Lucas. "He's still the same hard bastard that he was thirty years ago. Let me tell you, never play poker with him. He stood by and watched the Nutting Squad shoot his agents in the back of the knees, and didn't bat a fuckin' eye." He turns back to Harry.  
"You lot let me go in '98; now, at the first whiff of trouble, you're back, begging bowl in hand. That is why you're here, isn't it?"

Harry regards him coldly. For the first time, a dangerous note creeps into his voice.  
"The kidnap, torture and murder of an MI5 officer bought you a lot of currency thirty years ago. No-one is going to question the loyalty of a man who did that, are they?" He sits forward, pinning Liam in his glare.  
"We sacrificed our officer back then to protect you. You have a debt to us, and I'm collecting. Make no mistake; I will not hesitate to send your friends the details of your very large bank account in Gibraltar, and details of how you sold them out for twenty years."  
"You fuckin' bastard!" Liam jumps to his feet, and Lucas moves swiftly to put himself between the Irishman and his boss.

"Easy there, Steak Knife. All we're looking for here is some information." Lucas glances at Harry, who nods at him to continue.  
"The next round of Northern Ireland talks starts here in Belfast the day after tomorrow. We know that Republican Sinn Fein, Continuity IRA and Real IRA are planning something big." He doesn't miss the spark of recognition in the man's eyes, as Liam sinks down onto the sofa again.  
"You know something, don't you?"  
The former agent casts a baleful look in Harry's direction, whose expression leaves him in no doubt that Harry would love nothing more than to sell him out to the Republicans. The older MI5 man has him neatly backed into a corner, leaving him no option but to cooperate. He sighs, and nods.  
"Aye. I'm in Real IRA. I know that Peter Miller's been working on a huge fuckin' bomb."  
Harry and Lucas glance at each other, before Harry takes over the questioning. "When will the attack take place?"  
"I'm not supposed to know that. The execution is going to be done by Republican Sinn Fein – we're just supposed to deliver the goods." He smiles.  
"But Pete is building a beauty, remote trigger and everything, and only he can install the thing safely in whatever vehicle they're going to use." He pauses. "They've asked him to be ready on Monday." Liam looks between Harry and Lucas. "And that's all I know."

Lucas believes him. "That's a good start. You find out anything else, you contact me." He hands over a slip of paper with his mobile number before moving towards the door. As Harry follows him, Liam takes something out of his pocket and places it on the coffee table.  
"I think we have another matter to discuss, Harry. Without your friend."  
Harry looks at the ring Liam has placed on the table, and goes very still. He is surprised to feel tears prick his eyes.  
"Leave us, John."  
Lucas doesn't like the hoarse note in Harry's voice one bit, and glances between him and Liam.  
"I don't think that's a good-"  
Harry rounds on him. "Leave us!"  
Lucas has never seen such fury in Harry's expression before, so he backs off, hoping to God Harry isn't about to kill their only source of information, with the guy's mother sitting only metres away to boot. He holds Harry's glare, and tries to break through the fog of anger that has descended on his boss.  
"We _need _him, Harry. I'll wait outside."

As soon as they're alone, Liam speaks. "You recognise it then?"  
"It was Bill's." Harry's voice is almost a whisper. He is breathing hard, trying to keep control of his emotions. After an eternity he tears his eyes from the ring, and glares at Liam.  
"I want the men who tortured my friend."  
"I thought you might." Liam takes a deep breath. "I didn't think they'd kill him, but Patrick McCann just lost it. He was so pissed that you'd been able to infiltrate us like that, he couldn't help himself. Kept saying it was a lesson to you, and that you'd be next."

Harry has become pale with the effort of controlling himself, and not spring across the room and snap the man's neck. He grinds out his words between clenched teeth.  
"McCann is dead. He couldn't have done that to Bill alone. I want the men who helped him."  
Liam regards him with a slight smirk. "You should have been Irish; you're very good at holding grudges-"  
He'd barely finished speaking when Harry is on him and slams him against the wall.  
"I have waited _thirty two fucking years_ to right this wrong, to get my hands on the men who killed my friend. His blood is all over your hands too, but I can't touch you, I need you. But there were others, and I _can_ touch them - _now can you bloody deliver them or not_?!"

The other man claws at his hands, and he realises belatedly that they are clamped around Liam's neck, slowly squeezing the life out of him. Harry releases his grip, but keeps the other man pinned against the wall with his body, looking into his eyes, and noticing a spark of fear in them. Gasping for air, Liam nods.  
"There were… two others. Paddy Williams and Chris Burton. I can set up a meet. Tomorrow night… the farm on the road to Armagh where we'd tortured your friend. You know it?"  
Harry backs away slowly, nodding mutely, remembering again how he'd got there just after they'd left, how Bill's blood was spattered over the floor, how the smell of seared flesh still lingered in the air.  
"I'll be there." His voice sounds strangled. As he passes the coffee table, he picks up Bill's ring and puts it in his pocket. He leaves without another word.

When he gets outside, he looks upwards, letting the rain fall on his face, and tries not to think about how close he came to killing Steak Knife with his bare hands. Lucas is leaning against the house beside the door, and pushes his lanky frame upright to join Harry.  
"He still alive then?"  
Harry nods curtly, and tosses him the car keys. "You drive." He shoves his shaking hands into his pockets; his left hand curling around Bill's ring.

- 0 -

Lucas glances across at Harry as they drive back to the hotel. The older man is leaning his head back against the head-rest, his eyes closed. Drops of rain still cling to his face. He looks exhausted, drained.  
"Harry." Lucas speaks softly, almost reverently. "I'm sorry that you can't kill him."  
Harry turns his head, a surprised look on his face. Before he can say anything, Lucas continues.  
"You think I don't understand the need for revenge? After everything that I… You think I don't lie awake each night, fantasising about killing every single one of the bastards that interrogated me?"

Harry can hear the suppressed emotion, the anger, in Lucas' voice, and his heart aches for what this man must have suffered. There is nothing he can say that will make it better; he knows all too well that only Lucas can exorcise his own demons. But he wants to give him something, to reach out in some way.  
"Kachimov is dead."  
Neither he nor Ros ever told anyone about what had happened to Kachimov, and although his team may have suspected, no-one dared ask.  
Lucas breathes deeply. "I suspected as much. Did you kill him?"  
"Yes. I shot him through the heart. And as much as it was revenge for Adam's death, it was also about you on some level. I can't undo what you've endured, Lucas, but… it was something."

Lucas is quiet for a long time, before he finally speaks softly, almost to himself.  
"Yes. It's something."

- 0 -

Lucas drops Harry in front of the hotel and drives off to return the car. As soon as he's out of sight, Harry walks back out into the rain. He takes a circuitous route, until he reaches the address where Malcolm has settled. Aware that he must look like a drenched rat by this time, he gratefully accepts Malcolm's offer of tea and settles himself in the chair closest to the radiator. He waits until Malcolm has sat down across from him.  
"Thanks for the surveillance information; you did a very thorough job in precious little time, as always."  
"Did it help you to find out more about the Republicans' plans?"  
"As a matter of fact, it did."  
Malcolm listens carefully as Harry explains what they'd learnt from Steak Knife.  
"Okay. So it appears we'll be dealing with a remote detonation scenario. There's a number of ways that this can be done. Most often they use a mobile phone – you connect one to the bomb and when you call that number, it detonates after three rings, or whatever the case may be."  
Harry is tired, and wants to get to the nub of the problem as quickly as possible.  
"So can you stop it?"  
"Well, I've been working on a little gadget. There is a problem though."  
Harry rolls his eyes, gesturing at Malcolm to give him the worst.

"I've been looking through the Police reports linked to all the bombings Peter Miller is connected with-"  
"Dear God," Harry interjects, "between you and Ruth there is probably no information in the world that you couldn't access. Thank God you're on our side."  
"-And he seems to favour two remote detonation options for each bomb. Yes, he uses the mobile phone option, but he's also used an infrared trigger as back-up on some of his bigger jobs."  
"Let me guess; that one is much harder to counter."  
"Yes. You see, the problem is that in the infrared range you have a much larger number of frequencies-"  
"Malcolm." Harry closes his eyes tiredly. "Spare me the techno babble. Just tell me whether there is any chance of blocking it."  
"Right." Malcolm points to two little black boxes lying on the table behind Harry.

"The mobile phone trigger I can block from here. It's a simple matter of scanning for any new active mobiles in the area that have never received a call…" Harry gives him a warning look.  
"Sorry. For the infrared trigger's blocking device to be effective, one needs to be within a radius of 300 metres. Miller will have to be close to the hotel somewhere in order for his trigger to work, so you'll have to find him and have someone operating the blocking device near him to stop it."  
"Any thoughts on how we might find him?"  
"He'll have to send out a number of range-finding infrared pulses. If we can pick those up, we can use it to pinpoint his location."  
"Okay. Communicate with Ruth – get her the equipment she needs to pinpoint the pulses. If you both work on it, we have a better chance of getting someone close with the blocking gadget."  
Malcolm nods. Harry stands up, hesitates, then reaches into his coat pocket.  
"I need you to do something else for me."  
He places Bill's ring on the table between them.

- 0 -

_Same Day, Late Night  
Hotel Operations Centre_

Harry has assembled them all, updating them on the latest information and explaining the plan for blocking the remote detonation devices. He makes no mention of the source of the information.  
"Ruth, you'll stay here in the Operations Centre, scanning for the pulses and pinpointing our bomber's location. Lucas, I want you mobile – I think a motorcycle would work best – with the infrared blocking device. You'll have to circle the hotel and be prepared to move at speed to whatever location Ruth gives you."  
Beth speaks up. "If there are two of us out there we can divide the area and cut down on response time."

Harry rubs a hand over his face. "That's true, but I want you to stick close to the Sinn Fein delegation come hell or high water. Even if the whole bloody building falls down, you stay with them."  
Lucas frowns. "You think there's something else going on?"  
Harry purses his lips. "I can't help thinking there's got to be more to this. The splinter groups have to know that their chances of getting that bomb through all the security checks, and close enough to kill the participants at the talks, are extremely slim. It doesn't make sense."  
"A bold statement of intent, perhaps? Even if the bomb doesn't kill anyone, it'll still get their message across," Beth ventures.  
Ruth looks at Harry. "A diversionary tactic."  
Lucas nods. "We'll be focussed on sorting out the mess, thinking the danger has passed. It'll leave us more vulnerable to a second attack."  
"Yes," Harry sighs. "But we have no idea what."

Silence descends as, for once, no-one has any suggestions. Ruth breaks it after a few seconds with a slight change in topic.  
"I think we can narrow down the probable time of the bomb attack."  
Harry looks at her, his eyes soft. "Explain."  
"Well, if we're right that it's only a diversion, they'll want to use it when it will cause the most confusion, yes? If the information that the attack's going to be on Monday is right, then the opening ceremony is a good bet. It'll be the first time that all the delegates will be present and in one place, and there'll be a lot of press, which will greatly enhance their chances of causing chaos."  
Lucas smiles in admiration. "So, Monday between four and five o'clock is most likely to be our zero hour, then."  
Harry notices Beth stifle a yawn, and feels a pang of guilt over how hard he's been driving them.  
"Okay, that's it for today. Get some sleep everyone. And good work."

As Ruth makes a final tour of the Operations Centre, making sure all systems are running correctly, she notices Harry linger behind.  
"Thanks for the flower." She smiles at him. He returns it with a bashful smile of his own.  
"I didn't mean to belittle your value this morning, Ruth. I've never thought of you as my secretary. I'm sorry if I've ever made you think that."  
Ruth waves a hand in the air. "I know. I'm just…" She moves closer to him. "I'm a little on edge about this operation."  
Harry gives in to temptation, and pulls her against him, rubbing her back. "I haven't made things easy for you, have I?"  
She holds him tightly. "It's not that. I worry about you, about what this operation is doing to you."  
"I'm fine."  
Ruth closes her eyes in resignation. She can feel the tension running through his body as she holds him; she knows he is lying to her.  
"Of course." She pulls away. "I have to finish here."  
The desolate look on her face breaks his heart, but he doesn't know how to make it better, so he turns around and leaves quietly.

- 0 -

_Sunday 21 November, Afternoon  
Hotel Operations Centre_

There is a rare lull in a very busy day, and Ruth gratefully uses the time to sip a cup of tea. She wearily rubs her neck; after the unsatisfactory encounter with Harry last night she hadn't slept well, more concerned than ever about the things he is clearly not telling her. It is obvious to her that his former agent, Steak Knife, is the source of the latest information about the attack, yet Harry has not breathed a single word to her about meeting one of the men responsible for his friend's death. It's not that she expects him to tell her everything; she is more concerned about the reason behind his silence than about the silence itself. And then, this morning, she had run into him at breakfast, but he'd been preoccupied and distant, and she couldn't break through his walls.

For the rest of the day, he has driven them all mercilessly, double- and triple-checking every conceivable aspect of the operation. He has not been his normal self, and she could sense a nervous tension in him every time they were in the same room. Ruth has only been in Belfast for one day, and she's only seen the airport and the hotel, but already she is sick of the place, and wants nothing more than for this operation to be over.

- 0 -

It is mid-afternoon when Harry finishes his preparations at the hotel, and finally feels satisfied that his team can continue with the operation without him if things should go wrong that evening. He dresses quickly, planning to slip out of the hotel quietly and be on his way without anyone knowing. However, when he checks his appearance one last time in the mirror, it is not his own face he sees, but Ruth's concerned eyes. Harry knows he is risking his life in going to meet the two former PIRAs on his own, but this is his fight, and he doesn't want to endanger anyone else by involving them. But now, as he stands on the cusp of closing this circle that has been open for thirty two years, it seems that he can't bring himself to leave without seeing Ruth one last time. Annoyed at his weakness, he leaves his room and turns towards the Operations Centre.

- 0 -

Harry stands in the open door, unobserved, and watches the woman he loves as she drinks her tea. He sees the little frown of concern between her eyes, and the preoccupied look on her face, and knows that he is responsible for it. It breaks his heart, and he wonders, once this is all over, and if he survives, whether she will forgive him, and knows that she will have every reason not to. He moves into the room.  
"Hi."  
She looks up, surprised, and gives him a tentative smile. "Hi."  
But then she notices what he is wearing: dark trousers and polo neck sweater, boots, and weatherproof jacket, and her smile falters.

"Harry? What are you-" Fear grips her, cuts off the end of her sentence.  
He tries to smile reassuringly, but knows that he is failing miserably.  
"There's something I have to take care of."  
She starts to shake her head, looking at him imploringly.  
"No, Harry, please don't d-"  
He interrupts her roughly. "Don't, Ruth. Don't ask me to choose between you and what I have to do." There is despair in his eyes, tempering his harsh words.  
Ruth looks at him, and though there is still fear in her expression, he can also see anger burning brightly.  
"You think this is about me?! It isn't about me, or even about us. I'm asking you not to do it for yourself!" Her voice softens. "How many times can you do something like this, and still believe that you are the same good and moral man that you've always been?"

He looks away from her, and when he answers, his voice is soft and filled with regret.  
"You have always believed me to be a better man than I truly am… I'm sorry. I can't walk away from this."  
It's true. This operation has opened a wound that has been festering for thirty two years, and he knows he will not be able to live with himself if he doesn't go tonight. He seeks her eyes again, and it is one of the gentlest, most loving looks he has ever given her.  
"Ruth Evershed, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me."  
Before she can respond, he has turned and disappeared through the door.

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

_Sunday 21 November, Late afternoon  
Belfast_

Harry finds the Land Rover in an underground car park near the hotel without any problem. Malcolm has done well; it looks well-used and is splattered with mud, in all aspects a non-descript vehicle that will blend in perfectly on the country roads. He finds the key hidden behind the nearest fire hydrant, and gets in. On the passenger seat lies a parcel, a flashlight, and binoculars. He shakes out the contents of the parcel: maps, compass and GPS, and Bill's ring.

Harry scrutinises the ring carefully before putting it on his finger. He stares at it, remembering how he used to tease Bill about the signet ring with the unsightly black stone, and how Bill used to laugh and tell him that he was behind the times, that it was all the fashion rage.  
"I still think it's bloody ugly, Bill."  
He reaches into the glove compartment, and withdraws the gun and extra ammunition clips hidden there. Expertly, he disassembles and reassembles it, making sure that everything is in order. It is in perfect working condition. He expects nothing less of Malcolm. Taking a deep breath, he starts the engine and drives out into the streets of Belfast.

- 0 -

_Same day, Late afternoon  
Hotel Operations Centre_

Ruth sits, unmoving, paralysed by an intense fear after Harry has left. She knows him so well, that it is obvious to her that he fears he may not survive whatever he is about to do. That is the only explanation for him coming to see her before he left. It also means, she knows, that he is probably not taking back-up. The thought of Harry all alone, facing his demons, finally galvanises her into action. Totally against regulation, she digs out the untraceable mobile on which she communicates with Malcolm, and calls him.

"Hi Ruth. You want to do another test run on the infrared pulse detector?"  
"No, Malcolm. I need something else from you. Have you done any off the books surveillance for Harry?"  
"Er…" Malcolm hesitates, caught between not wanting to betray Harry's confidence and the note of panic in Ruth's voice.  
"Malcolm, please. Harry is about to go into a dangerous situation with no back-up, I need all the information you have in order to help him." As she finishes speaking, she realises that Beth is standing behind her, an alarmed look spreading across her face. Her focus is brought back to the phone by Malcolm's voice.  
"That explains the ring."  
"What ring?"  
"He gave me this ring, with a big black stone, and told me to put a tracking device into it."

Ruth's heart leaps. "You mean you can track where he is?"  
"Er, no. He has to activate it by pressing on the stone first."  
This information is met by anguished silence. Malcolm knows Ruth does not panic unnecessarily, and decides that he'll risk Harry's wrath to help.  
"I'm sending all the information right now. I have a list of telephone numbers picked up from surveillance done on the house Harry visited last night. Get onto GCHQ to send you the recordings of calls made on these numbers from late last night to today. In the meantime, I'll hack into the CCTV feeds and see if I can pick up the car."  
As Ruth gets on the phone to GCHQ, Beth settles into the chair next to her and picks up a pair of earphones. Ruth gives her a questioning look.  
"I'll help. Two of us will get through the recordings much faster."

- 0 -

The Sunday afternoon traffic is light, and Harry soon leaves the city behind. As he turns from the M1 onto the A3 and heads south towards Armagh, mist starts to creep up the valleys. By the time he turns onto a dirt road halfway between Belfast and Armagh, it has thickened to a fog that blankets everything and reduces visibility to a few metres only. Harry swears; this means he'll not be able to observe the farmhouse for a time before going in. He'll have no way of knowing if he is walking into a trap.

- 0 -

After half an hour of listening to other people's inane conversations about shopping and the weather, Ruth has begun to think Harry may not be in danger after all. However, her illusion of safety is shattered by the next call she listens to:  
_"You remember that hard bastard from MI5? The one whose buddy we killed?"  
"Aye."  
"He's back, looking for trouble. I can lure him to the old farm where we did the other one, tomorrow night. You and Paddy want to have some fun?"  
"Oh yes…"_  
Ruth pulls off her headphones, her hands shaking. Just then Malcolm calls.  
"I picked him up on the CCTV. He went south on the M1."

She calls Lucas.  
"I need your help."  
"What's wrong?!" Lucas is alarmed by the urgency in Ruth's voice. She is one of the calmest people under pressure he knows, but he can hear that she is barely keeping herself together.  
"It's Harry. He's gone off to take revenge on some of the men that was involved in Bill Crombie's murder thirty-odd years ago. But they know he's coming, Lucas. It's a set-up, and he left his phone here so that we can't trace him. Please, I'm begging you."  
She can hear Lucas running as he talks to her.  
"Where do I go?"  
"We're still working on that, but he headed out of town south on the M1."  
"Right, let me know as soon as you have more."  
Lucas, who has just been meeting with the PSNI, runs back into the building.  
"I need a car, NOW!"

- 0 -

Harry stops the Land Rover on a little hill at the back of the farm. The elevation is not high enough to lift him above the bank of fog, and he has no visual on the farm house. He sits in the car for a few minutes, his breath crystallising in the cold air, staring at the whiteness around him, watching the fog blur and soften the outlines of the nearest trees. His mind wanders, involuntarily, to Ruth. He thinks about the expression on her face below – or above - him when they make love, the lilt of her voice when she says his name, before he reins in his thoughts savagely. These memories have no place here, where he is about to commit this brutal act. His eyes are drawn to the ring on his finger once again, strengthening his resolve.  
"Blood for blood." He says the words softly to himself. The gun is a reassuring weight in his hand as he takes it from the glove compartment, before stepping out of the car.

- 0 -

Lucas finally hits the open road on the outskirts of the city, and puts his foot down. As soon as he'd explained that Harry has been led into a trap by one of their Republican sources, the PSNI almost drowned him with offers of fast cars and, more alarmingly, unregistered firearms. He tries not to think too much about what that may mean for their methods of keeping law and order. About ten of them offered to come along, but Lucas doesn't want to end up in a stand-off between the Republicans and the PSNI, with Harry as the pawn in the middle, so he declined, took one gun and a car, and sped off. Unfortunately, he still doesn't know where he's going, but he's hoping that Ruth will figure it out in time.

Beth studies the Northern Ireland map on the wall, trying to figure out where Harry could have gone. Ruth stormed out a little earlier; Beth doesn't know where to and didn't get a chance to ask. Just then Ruth runs back in, waving a USB stick in the air. Beth points at the map.  
"If he's going south, I think a good bet would be somewhere near Armagh. That area has always been a hotbed for the Republicans."  
Ruth nods. "Good. Tell Lucas."

Beth calls Lucas. "We think you need to head towards Armagh, so take the A3, all right?"  
She looks over Ruth's shoulder as Ruth opens the contents of the USB stick. "What's that?"  
"It's all the files relating to Harry's agent network when he was stationed here in '78." Ruth doesn't add that she'd scanned the hard copies onto the USB quite illegally.  
"I think they'll be somewhere that is connected to the death of another officer during that time." She opens the file on Bill's kidnap and death, and frantically scans through it.  
"There." Beth, who is reading over her shoulder, points to a paragraph. According to the file, Bill was constantly moved between two farms in the Armagh area. "It's got to be one of those." She calls Lucas again.  
"We've narrowed it down to two farms in the Armagh area. Ruth is sending you the coordinates now. Hurry, Lucas!"

Now, all they can do is wait.

- 0 -

Harry carefully picks his way over the uneven terrain, the fog thick around him. He has to rely solely on the GPS and compass to be sure he is going in the right direction. It is eerily quiet, the fog damping down all sound, making his breathing sound unnaturally loud in his own ears. Finally he reaches a low dry stone wall, and pauses, gun at the ready. He is approaching the farmhouse from the same direction he did thirty years ago, and he remembers that the wall is no more than two hundred yards from the back of the house. He wipes the moisture from his face, a futile gesture as new droplets form immediately and cling to his hair and eyebrows.

After standing very still for a few minutes, and hearing nothing out of the ordinary, he cautiously scales the wall and drops into a crouch on the other side, almost expecting a hail of bullets to greet him.  
Nothing happens.  
Harry has a moment to think about the absurdity of a fifty-six year old man creeping around the Northern Ireland countryside in the fog, before his focus snaps back to the task in hand and he advances towards the house. It looms out of the fog suddenly, and he freezes, not aware that it was that close. He peers at it, but can make out very little detail in the gloom of fog and falling dusk. The house sits in darkness, waiting. Realising that he is clutching the gun with undue force, he consciously relaxes his grip, and edges towards the window next to the back door.

Once he reaches the house, he presses his back against the wall, feeling the cold seep through his clothes. Taking a deep breath, he risks a glance through the window, but the interior is even darker than the gloom outside, and he can't make out anything. Harry closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. He knows that this is monumentally stupid, that he should turn around and go back to Ruth, or call Lucas for back-up at the very least. But he seems to have left all reason behind in that dingy sitting room with Steak Knife, whom he was forced to leave breathing and alive, while his friend is dead and buried in the cold, hard ground.

He ducks beneath the window and takes in a position next to the back door. Ever so carefully, staying behind the protection of the wall, he tries the handle. The door is unlocked. He eases it open as quietly as possible, still hugging the wall, and waits.  
Once again, nothing happens.  
He lets out a breath, and looks down at his hands holding the gun. They are steady, and he knows that he is ready. He darts inside, careful not to provide a silhouette in the open door for longer than a fraction of a second, and presses himself against the inside wall, gun up, ready to fire.  
Still nothing happens.  
Harry stays still, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, straining to pick up any sound that is out of place. Hearing and seeing nothing, he moves through the kitchen towards the hallway. As soon as he steps into it, the cold barrel of a gun is pressed behind his right ear.

- 0 -

Lucas checks the coordinates again that Ruth has sent. He is nearing the turnoff to the first farm, having driven dangerously fast in the foggy conditions. He has decided to check out the nearest farm first, for lack of a better plan. The fog makes spotting the signposts hard, and he has to slow down to make sure he doesn't miss the turn-off. He hopes to God that he isn't too late.

Beth glances at Ruth worriedly; the analyst hasn't said a word since they've identified the two farms. She is obsessively rechecking everything in the 1978 files, chewing on a pen as she concentrates. Beth wants to tell her that everything will be all right, but she knows it is an empty promise, so she says nothing, and stares at the phone, willing it to ring.

- 0 -

Harry is pushed down the hallway, the gun still pressing into the tender flesh behind his ear. His own has been taken from him, so he has nothing left with which to defend himself. He knows now that he has walked into a trap; that Steak Knife has set him up. His thoughts go to Ruth, and to Catherine, and regret burns bright in his mind.

They enter the sitting room, and a light is turned on. The first thing he sees is Steak Knife standing in the corner of the room. As he is frisked, his glare stays on the man who betrayed him. They remove everything, including his watch and the ring, checking them for tracing or listening devices. Harry is forced onto a wooden chair, and his hands bound tightly behind him. Paddy Williams holds up the ring.  
"Now this looks awfully familiar."  
Harry watches as he twists, turns and pushes at the stone.

- 0 -

The tracking software beeps loudly, and begins to flash Harry's position on the monitor before Malcolm. He nearly falls off his chair; he has been staring at the screen willing it to come to life for what feels like eons. He scrambles for the phone. As soon as Ruth answers, he bellows down the line.  
"I've got him!"  
To spare time, Ruth patches him straight through to Lucas, who barely has time to acknowledge the call before Malcolm rushes on.  
"He's turned on the tracker – he's on the second farm!"

Lucas, who is about to take the turn-off to the first farm, yanks the wheel and cuts in front of another vehicle back onto the main road. The other driver blares his horn furiously, but Lucas ignores him, momentarily disoriented by hearing Malcolm's voice.  
"_Malcolm_?!"  
"Yes. I'll explain later. I think you're a little busy right now."  
"Right." Lucas disconnects and presses the accelerator down. The turn-off to the second farm is five kilometres on, and he reaches it in record time.

As soon as he turns off the main road, he turns off all the lights except for the fog lamps, and slowly noses the car forward over the dirt road. He knows from the GPS that it is about a kilometre and a half from the turn-off to the house, and watches the odometer carefully. As soon as he has less than half a kilometre to go, he stops the car and gets out to walk the rest of the way.

- 0 -

Paddy and Chris Burton circle Harry like hungry wolves, whilst Steak Knife stays in the corner and watches mutely. Chris positions himself in front of Harry.  
"Harry fuckin' Pearce. Didn't think we'd ever see ye again round these parts, seein' as ye ran away wit' yer tail between yer legs as soon as we took care of yer friend, ye fuckin' piece of shite."  
"I did not run." Harry struggles against the ropes, the taunting note in the man's voice getting under his skin. Chris steps closer, enjoying the helpless position of his victim. Harry mutters something under his breath. Chris steps even closer and leans over Harry.  
"What was that?"  
Harry kicks him viciously between the legs, and the man falls to the floor, howling in agony and clutching his balls.

"I _said_ – there was no need to run from cowards like y-" His voice is cut off when Paddy's fist crashes into his face, knocking him over and causing him to land hard on his right shoulder. He stifles the yelp of pain; he doesn't want to give them any satisfaction by showing he is hurt. If he is to join Bill in the ground tonight, he'll do so with honour, not begging for his life. Paddy kicks him hard in the ribs for good measure, and he has to grit his teeth not to whimper in agony.

- 0 -

Lucas advances up the dirt road, pointing the weak beam of his flashlight straight down. As soon as he sees the house take shape in the fog, he kills the flashlight, and tries to determine the best approach. He can see a light on in one of the front rooms, but the rest of the house is in darkness. Just then the silence is splintered by an agonised howl, making Lucas jump nearly out of his skin. Hoping desperately that the sound hadn't come from Harry, he moves forward swiftly, deciding that there was no more time for a stealthy approach.

- 0 -

Paddy yanks Harry and the chair upright, and disappears from view for a few moments. Harry tastes blood, but he's not sure whether his nose is bleeding or whether he bit his own tongue when Paddy hit him. He watches with satisfaction as Chris slowly and painfully picks himself up from the floor. Just as he is about to make a sarcastic comment, Paddy comes back into view, and Harry swallows his words. Terror rises up in him at the sight of the apparatus in Paddy's hand.

Paddy grins at him.  
"Let's see how long ye hold up compared to yer friend. He was begging for his life within the first minute. And then, after about two minutes, he was begging fer us to kill 'im." He gleefully lights the blowtorch, and Harry watches helplessly as the blue flame comes ever closer.

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

_Sunday 21 November, Night  
Farm in Armagh district_

Paddy moves the flame close to Harry's face. He can feel the heat drying the sweat on his upper lip, and tries to turn his head away, but Paddy follows him with the flame. Harry knows that, if he survives this, he'll be hearing the hissing noise of the blowtorch in his dreams for years to come. He wants to cry for the terror and agony Bill must have gone through.  
"What do ye think, Chris, the lips first? That other bastard screamed bloody murder when we burnt his lips."  
Harry struggles violently against the ropes, his terror forgotten in the blind fury Paddy's words awakens in him. Chris taps Paddy on the shoulder.  
"Let me, I owe the fuckin' bastard some pain."

Lucas arrives at the window as the second man takes the blowtorch and advances towards Harry. It is obvious from the funny way he's moving that Harry has hurt him in some way, and the expression on his face is murderous and sadistic as he hones in on the helpless man before him. Without wasting any time, Lucas smashes the window with the butt of the gun, and as the two men turn towards him in surprise, he shoots Chris between the eyes. The Irishman crumples to the floor without a sound. All eyes in the room are riveted on Lucas, who keeps the gun trained on Paddy.  
"If you breathe too hard, I'll shoot you. Liam, untie my friend." His calm voice belies the coldness evident in his eyes, and Liam doesn't doubt that he'll be shot on the spot if he doesn't obey. He moves over and unties Harry's hands.

The moment he is free, Harry launches to his feet and grabs his gun off the table. In the blink of an eye he is before Paddy, and presses the gun against his heart.  
"For Bill," he says, pure hatred in his eyes, and pulls the trigger.

He spins around and moves towards Liam, who throws his hands up in surrender. Harry shoves him against the wall and presses the gun against his temple, his finger tightening on the trigger. This time, Lucas has no intention of stopping Harry, and he watches on without saying a word. Harry is breathing hard, almost nose to nose with his former agent. He stares into his eyes, and sees pure terror there, and it gives him great satisfaction. He presses the gun harder, the barrel digging into the man's flesh painfully. And yet he cannot pull the trigger. A little voice inside his head reminds him that there is still an operation to finish, and that they need more information.

"_Gnaaargh!_" He turns away with a strangled cry, his fury and impotence caught up in the sound. Steak Knife slides down to the floor, his shaking legs unable to hold him up. Harry moves to stand over him, pointing the gun at him again.  
"You helped kill my friend. You sold me out. There is nothing I want more than to kill you right now, but I won't. Because you are going to go back to your friends, and you are going to _get me the information I need_. The bomb is a diversion; I want to know what else they're planning. If you don't find out what I want to know, I'm coming for you, and believe me, this time there will be no operational need to stop me." He turns away, unable to look at the man anymore.  
"_Now get out of my sight!_"

Lucas watches Steak Knife carefully until he drives off, before reaching for his phone. Ruth answers on the first ring.  
"It's over. I've got him, he's all right."  
A half-laugh, half-sob is his answer, followed by a few seconds' silence, before Ruth finally manages to get her voice working.  
"Thank you, Lucas, thank you…"

When he returns to the house, he finds Harry sitting on the sofa, turning Bill's ring absently between his fingers, staring at the two dead men and the blowtorch. He notices that the gun has been made safe and is lying on the table behind Harry. The only other time he has seen his boss look this drained, was when he'd rescued him and Ruth from being killed by Mani. Apparently the similarities in the situations are not lost on Harry either, as he raises his head and looks at Lucas.  
"Thank you, Lucas. Again." Lucas nods his head, and nothing more needs to be said. Neither of them is prone to overly emotional displays, or the need for passionate declarations on how Lucas has saved Harry's life. They both know the stakes and the magnitude of what just happened, and that is enough.

Harry gingerly begins to take stock of his injuries. His jaw hurts like hell, and he feels a sharp, stabbing pain every time he breathes deeply. He knows from experience this means that he has some cracked ribs. His right shoulder aches and is beginning to stiffen up, and he suspects that he will probably be unable to lift his arm tomorrow.  
"You did the right thing," Lucas says, nodding towards the door through which Steak Knife hastily departed a few minutes earlier. Harry works his jaw from side to side, and attempts to lighten the mood a little bit.  
"Don't tell me you're concerned about the impact on my soul as well."  
Lucas' reply is prompt and delivered with a grin.  
"Didn't know you had one."

Harry takes the comment in the spirit it was intended, and gives his Section Chief a half-smile before raising the matter he has been pondering ever since Lucas' dramatic entry.  
"By the way, how did you get here so fast?"  
Lucas' grin widens.  
"Well, Harry, next time you plan to do something this idiotic in an attempt to get yourself killed, don't alert your best analyst about your intentions."  
This elicits a small chuckle from Harry, which leaves him clutching his ribs.

They're both quiet for a few moments, before Lucas continues in a more serious tone.  
"I think she started putting the puzzle together the moment you were through the door. It's the first time ever I've heard panic in Ruth's voice."  
The thought of causing Ruth such emotional distress, makes Harry's heart ache, and he closes his eyes in an attempt to hide his feelings from Lucas. He feels a weight settle on him, as the fear takes root that he has ruined the best thing ever to happen to him, and the thought that he has just thrown away this precious second chance he's been given with her, begins to take over his mind.

"Next time, Harry, you can ask for my help." Lucas' voice is filled with conviction; he knows what it feels like to want revenge at all costs.  
The older man opens his eyes, nods.  
"I know." His voice sounds slightly hoarse. He continues, only half-teasingly. "But maybe _I'm_ concerned about _your_ soul."  
The thought makes Lucas laugh.  
"Harry Pearce: Protector of his subordinates' souls. Now that's a scary thought."  
Harry searches Lucas' face, remembering the unexplained absences and the preoccupied air he's been sporting of late.  
"And you, Lucas? Will you take your own advice and ask for help, before it's too late?" He doesn't wait for an answer, but moves towards the door, leaving Lucas with the thought.  
They exit the house, and walk back to where Lucas left the car.  
Harry does not look back once.

- 0 -

_Same day, Late night  
Hotel Operations Centre_

When Lucas and Harry enter the Operations Room, Beth jumps to her feet and beams at Harry. It looks for a moment as though she may rush forward and hug him, but she refrains at the last moment. In the end she prudently sticks to a more restrained welcome.  
"Good to see you, Harry."  
Harry nods at her, and gives her a small smile, before his attention moves to Ruth, and stays there.

Beth looks between the two, then turns to Lucas.  
"I, ah, need some help with, ah, that other thingy…"  
Mercifully Lucas immediately picks up on her attempt to get him out of the room, sparing Beth from further bumbling.  
"Right."  
As he turns towards the door, Ruth's voice stops him. "Lucas?"  
He looks at her. She doesn't say anything else, merely tilts her head and gives the smallest of smiles, but her gratitude is plainly written all over her face. Lucas smiles, and nods at her, before walking out the door.  
Beth gives Ruth's shoulder a squeeze as she passes, and then Harry and Ruth are alone.

She has been watching him closely from the moment he walked into the room, immediately picking up on the careful way he is moving. She can tell he is in pain, and she can see a large bruise beginning to form on the left side of his face, and he's carrying his right arm very gingerly, but apart from that, he seems to be gloriously unscathed. She doesn't quite know what to feel; she runs through anger, hurt, relief and intense love in a few seconds while she stands rooted to the spot, staring at him. Harry is unnerved by her silence, by the intent look she is giving him, and he curbs his instinct to move forward and hold her, trying to figure out how angry she is with him instead. Finally, he breaks the silence nervously.  
"I'm sorry I made you worry."

It's the apprehension in his voice, and the fact that he's drinking her in as though he'd feared he'd never see her again, that moves her to find her voice.  
"Stupid man…" Even as she utters the rebuke, her voice shaky with emotion, she takes a step towards him. It serves as the reassurance Harry needs, and he moves forward swiftly, folding her into his arms. Her next words are mumbled into his shoulder.  
"Stupid bloody man…"

He can feel her tears seep into his shirt, and buries his face in her hair.  
"I'm so sorry." There is a catch in his voice. He grits his teeth against the pain as she squeezes his cracked ribs tightly, but refuses to let go. Harry knows that her actions are born from relief that he is alive, and does not necessarily mean that she has fully forgiven him. But that is a conversation for another day and place, when they are not in the middle of a difficult operation, and when they've both had time to reflect on things. In the meantime, he'll take what little she is willing to give him. If he has to grovel for her forgiveness for the rest of his life, he'll do so. It's the least he owes her.

- 0 -

_Monday 22 November, 15h00  
Culloden Estate Hotel_

There is only one hour to go to the start of the opening ceremony, and they have not heard anything from Steak Knife, and are still in the dark about the plans of the Republicans. Harry stalks the corridors restlessly, his face like thunder, causing everyone to give him a wide berth. Of course, the large purple bruise on his jaw, and the way he's cradling his right arm gingerly against him, makes it clear to everyone that he has been in a scrape of some sort, but thus far no-one has dared ask. The Home Secretary raised an eyebrow when he saw Harry that morning, and Harry stared at him belligerently, daring him to ask, but the man wisely refrained from doing so.

In truth, Harry is extremely worried. He knows they have made all the preparations they possibly could have. Ruth has been searching for any recent renting of apartments in the vicinity in the hope that they could predetermine Miller's position, but it has proven fruitless. This caused Malcolm to remark, with a condescending sniff, that "everybody in this bloody place is related, so he is probably using his Auntie Mavis or Uncle Roger's place as a base." Malcolm himself is monitoring all CCTV in the area, hoping to spot the vehicle that will deliver the bomb, and give them more time to react. Meanwhile, Lucas has been riding the streets around the hotel on a motorcycle, familiarising himself with the layout and street names, and also keeping an eye out for Miller or anyone else acting suspiciously. At the same time Beth has been practically stalking the Sinn Fein delegation, carefully watching their interaction and getting close enough to eavesdrop on their conversations wherever possible. Despite all these efforts, they have nothing to show for it, and Harry is beginning to fear it may not be enough.

- 0 -

_15h45_

The delegates have begun to assemble in the banquet room, as the press continue to arrive in droves. Harry and Beth mingle with the delegates, keeping a sharp eye on everything. The tension among the MI5 contingent has built to almost fever pitch, their comms practically crackling with it. The Home Secretary catches Harry's eye and gives him a smug look, obviously still thinking that there will be no attack on the conference. Harry cynically wonders if the man has already composed the letter of dismissal he intends to send to him.

- 0 -

Lucas straddles the idling bike in a central location, waiting for either Malcolm or Ruth to direct him somewhere, anywhere. The tension is almost unbearable.  
Suddenly Malcolm's voice comes through on the comms.  
"I think I have something."  
There is a collective holding of breath as everyone waits for him to continue.  
"Blue bread delivery van has just stopped outside the hotel entrance. One man got out and walked away at a rather brisk pace. Scanning now for any new mobile in the area that has never received a call."  
Ruth chews furiously on her pen, and Harry meets Beth's eyes across the room as the silence stretches on. He feels like reaching through the comms and throttling Malcolm to get him to hurry the hell up.  
"Yes! I've got it, and the signal is definitely coming from the van. That's our bomb, people! Blocking the signal… done. Now only the infrared trigger can still set it off."  
Harry's voice takes over. "Ruth, get CO19 onto that van immediately."

Just then Lucas' mobile rings, making him start violently.  
"Bloody hell," he mutters as he digs it out. He doesn't know the number, and glances around before putting the phone to his ear.  
"John?" He immediately recognises the dulcet tones of Steak Knife, and the urgent note in the man's voice makes him sit up.  
"It's Adams!"  
"What?" Lucas is thoroughly confused.  
"The second attack – it's going to be on Gerry fuckin' Adams! That's what the bomb is a diversion for; while everyone is distracted by the big bang outside one of Adams' own delegation is going to take him out!"

_tbc_


	8. Chapter 8

_Monday 22 November, 15h49  
Belfast_

_"That's what the bomb is a diversion for; while everyone is distracted by the big bang outside one of Adams' own delegation is going to take him out!"_

Lucas stops breathing for a moment. He can finally see the whole plan hang together in all its deviousness and brutality, and instinctively knows that the agent is telling the truth.  
"Hang on." He quickly relays this information on the comms before turning back to the phone.  
"Where's Miller? I want the address _now_."  
There is a brief hesitation on the other side of the phone, so Lucas continues coldly.  
"Or have you forgotten just how keen my friend is to remove you from this mortal coil?"  
Steak Knife gives it to him. Lucas gets on the comms again.  
"I've got Miller's location – I'm going after him. Hold back CO19 until I've neutralised him."  
"Right." Ruth immediately relays the instruction as Lucas races through the streets, paying no heed to the traffic laws.

- 0 -

Harry and Beth zero in on the Sinn Fein delegation, circling them, trying to identify anyone in the group acting strangely. Seeing no-one, Harry inserts himself into the group with Adams, engaging him in inane conversation, trying to act as a barrier between him and any attacker. He is slightly annoyed with himself for not seeing this angle earlier; he feels he should have guessed that the whole mess is a result of internal struggles among the Republicans, and he wonders bleakly whether his own desire for vengeance has blinded him to this.

- 0 -

Lucas reaches the apartment building, and unceremoniously ramps the bike up onto the pavement before jumping off and dropping it with a clatter. He runs inside, finds the stairs and races up them to the fifth floor.

Ruth checks her watch. "Five minutes to zero hour, Lucas." She glances at the equipment monitoring for the infrared pulses; nothing yet.

Lucas reaches the door of Apartment 508. He pauses, catching his breath and mentally calculating the best way forward. Malcolm comes back on the comms.  
"Building plans indicate the apartment door opens into a short corridor. The second door on your right is the sitting room, which has a view of the street where the van is parked."  
Lucas has a split-second to wonder how on earth Malcolm has succeeded in getting the plans so quickly, but stores it at the back of his mind as yet another thing he'll have to ask him later about this operation.  
"Okay, thanks Malcolm." He expertly picks the lock, and quietly opens the door. He pulls the gun from its holster in the small of his back, and makes his way to the second door as quietly as possible. Reaching it, he positions himself against the wall, and glances in quickly before pulling back again. Closing his eyes, he visualises what he has seen in that split second. There is only one occupant in the room. A man is stationed by the window, and there is some kind of device lying on the table next to him.

"Three minutes," Ruth's voice says in his ear.  
He knows there is no time for a more thorough inspection - he has to act now. He steps into the room, gun levelled at the man.  
"Peter Miller!" As he calls out the name loudly, the man spins around, his eyes large with surprise. They stare at each other for a moment, before the other man moves quickly, lunging for the device lying on the table.  
Lucas pulls the trigger, and Miller drops to the floor.  
As he moves over to check on Miller, Lucas wearily wonders how many more people he'll have to kill before the end of this operation. He is beginning to develop some sympathy for Harry's repugnance towards anything Northern Irish.  
"Lucas?" Ruth sounds anxious; she has heard the shot, and Lucas hasn't said anything since. He speaks up.  
"Miller is neutralised."  
Ruth immediately orders CO19 in to dismantle the bomb.

- 0 -

As Harry talks to Adams, his eyes scan the movements of the men closest to the Sinn Fein leader. He notices one of them repeatedly glance at his watch. Catching Beth's attention, he nods imperceptibly towards the man. Beth advances on him, reaching him just as the old clock against the wall chimes four. Simultaneously, a cacophony of sirens can be heard from outside, drawing ever closer. Harry sees the man close his eyes in resignation; he has realised that their plan has failed. He wonders if the man will stand down, but instead he suddenly lunges towards Adams, something long and shiny in his hand. Beth grabs his arm as Harry unceremoniously shoulders Adams out of harm's way, groaning in agony as his right shoulder connects and sends Adams sprawling on the floor. Two SPNI plainclothes policemen materialise out of the crowd, and help Beth to subdue the assailant.

She takes the implement out of the man's hand, holding it up for Harry and Adams to see. It is a long needle, filled with a colourless fluid.  
"Looks like he was planning to inject him with something."  
Adams, still sprawled on the floor, gawps at the implement before looking to his lieutenant.  
"Why?"  
"_Why_?! You are selling out the Republican cause! You're a disgrace, not fit to lead this party-" The rest of the assailant's diatribe is cut short by a well-judged jab to the ribs by one of the policemen.  
"Get him out of here." Harry, cradling his right arm in his left, turns to the rest of the people staring at the spectacle. He makes sure to look at the Home Secretary for a few seconds before speaking.  
"I apologise for the disruption. Everything is under control."

Harry turns back as Adams slowly clambers to his feet. The Sinn Fein man still seems bewildered by what just happened. He stares at Harry, who can see the pieces click into place as the man realises that Harry must be an MI5 officer. After a short hesitation, Adams nods at Harry.  
"Thank you, Mr. Pearce. You saved my life."  
Harry regards the former IRA man levelly before answering.  
"I was doing my job. Nothing more, nothing less."

He walks away, leaving Adams standing there, and stops before the Home Secretary.  
"My people have just thwarted a bomb attack on this conference, the aim of which was to cause a distraction to allow Adams to be killed. I know you moved the conference to Belfast on Sinn Fein's request, who in turn was asked to do so by the Republican splinter groups. They played you, and you fell for it. Perhaps next time you should pay more heed to the advice given to you by your Security Services."  
With that, he turns and walks out of the room.

- 0 -

_Saturday 27 November, Morning  
Malcolm's cottage, North Yorkshire Moors_

Harry awakens slowly. The first thing he registers, is that it is a rather cold morning. The second thing he notices is that he is alone in the bed. Lifting his head, he peers at the dresser. He can see Ruth's stuff spread out over it, so at least she hasn't done a runner at the crack of dawn. With a sigh, he lays his head back down on the pillow, acknowledging that he can no longer delay the talk he knows they must have.

Although the rest of the conference passed peacefully, Harry was kept extremely busy sorting out all the problems caused by the attempted attack. As a result, he and Ruth never got a chance to talk about what had happened that Sunday evening. To be honest, Harry didn't know what to say, and feared deep down that a discussion would force Ruth to acknowledge that she couldn't be with a man who did things like that. Ruth never brought it up either, because… well, actually Harry isn't sure why. But by Thursday, as they returned to London after the end of the talks, he couldn't take the uncertainty anymore, and suggested to Ruth that they come away for the weekend to Malcolm's cottage, in the hope that it would give them a chance to clear the air. The fact that she agreed went a long way to assuaging his fears that she is planning to leave him.

He gets out of bed, dresses warmly and moves through to the kitchen. An open pack of apples lies on the table, and he picks one up as he passes. Munching on the apple, he sets off on a footpath leading in the direction of the cliffs, looking for Ruth. It is quiet, peaceful; the only sound the distant sigh of the waves. He can understand why this place appeals to Malcolm. He rounds a bend, and spots her sitting on a bench overlooking the sea. Not able to help himself, he stops and watches her. She is wearing a thick jumper, the long sleeves covering her hands, protecting them from the cold. Her dark hair is moving slightly in the breeze as she stares thoughtfully out to sea, and to Harry she has never looked more beautiful. His heart skips a beat.

She turns her head to look at him as he sits down next to her, before looking back out to sea again. Harry lets the silence stretch a little longer, but when it becomes clear that Ruth has no intention of saying anything, he gathers his courage.  
"Have I ruined everything?"  
She looks at him, the expression on her face ever so thoughtful. Harry notices that her eyes are the same colour as the sea. Instead of answering, she asks another question.  
"Why didn't you tell me about Steak Knife?"  
His gaze drops to his hands, before meeting hers again.  
"…Because you are the only one who could've talked me out of it, and I didn't want to end up resenting you for denying me my chance at vengeance."  
It is a brutally honest answer, and not quite what Ruth was expecting.  
"Oh, Harry." She says it very softly, and he can sense some of the tension leaving her. They sit quietly for a while, neither quite sure how to continue this difficult conversation.

"I don't, you know," Ruth says suddenly. He looks at her.  
"I don't think you're a better man than you really are. I know your darker side just as well as I know your good side. I'm not blind to it. But the thing is, that's only a small part of who you are." She pauses, gathering her thoughts.  
"You're still the best man I know, because you choose to do this job, to accept the responsibility to make all those hard decisions, and to live with them afterwards. That takes tremendous moral courage, and _that's_what defines you."

Harry has nothing to say to that, so instead he asks, "You're not angry about what happened in Belfast?"  
Ruth considers carefully before she answers. "I am angry, but because you lied to me about something personal, not about you going after the men who killed your friend." She sighs. "I understand the impact Bill's death had on you, and that your own particular code of honour wouldn't allow you to let it be. I'm just disappointed, I guess, that you weren't able to talk to me about something that is obviously very important to you." She hesitates, before offering him an olive branch.  
"You don't have to do these things alone anymore." Seeking out his eyes, she smiles gently at him.

Harry lets out a long breath. Once the operation ended, he felt incredibly grateful to get on the plane back to England, and to shake the dust of that cursed territory from his shoes for what he hopes was the last time. Even though Steak Knife is still alive, the agent came through when they needed it most, and Harry will stick to his agreement and leave him be. He finally feels at peace with what happened in Northern Ireland thirty-two years ago. He is done with it.

Still, he doesn't think he deserves the forgiveness Ruth has offered him; instead he feels a pressing need to explain things more clearly to her.  
"I know that it was a selfish and stupid thing to do. I just-" He sighs, searching for the right words.  
"Bill's death is one of three things in this world that can make me lose all reason. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I could never find the right words. And for that I am truly sorry, Ruth. But I'm done with it, and I won't lie to you about personal matters again."

She searches his face, and can see the sincerity of his promise there. She nods, satisfied, before frowning a little.  
"One of three things? I know anything happening to Catherine is the second, but what's the third?"  
Harry reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and lets his fingertips trail across her cheek softly. His eyes are the colour of burnished honey in the morning light, and she sees an infinite amount of love in them as he gazes at her. His voice is incredibly gentle when he answers.  
"Do you really have to ask?"

She dips her head down for a moment, before looking up at him with a smile more bright than the morning sun. Reaching for his hand, she drags him upright with her.  
"Come on, there's a fireplace in the cottage. All I want to do today is curl up next to the fire with you, and read a good book."  
Harry takes her face in his hands, and kisses her long and deep. The heat of her mouth is in stark contrast to the cold around them, and the way she kisses him back warms him more than any fire ever could.

He thinks he must be the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

_fin_


End file.
